


The Dagger and the Rose

by yourbaeVA



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Almost Canon But Not Quite, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, klance, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23390767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourbaeVA/pseuds/yourbaeVA
Summary: Lance had always been comforted by the dagger piercing his heart. It wasn’t a real knife, but the image of one, seared onto his skin since birth. The knife had no biological reason for existing there. It just….did. Despite all earthly technology telling it that it didn’t. And Lance loved it.Keith had always hated the flower on his chest. The mark, imprinted there since Keith was born, set him apart from everyone else. As if Keith needed another reminder that he was different.In which Lance is clueless, Keith is angry, and life would be so much easier if everyone talked to each other.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 80





	1. The Angry Kid

Lance had always been comforted by the dagger piercing his heart. It wasn’t a real knife, but the image of one, seared onto his skin since birth. His family had been baffled. The doctors had been awed. Poor baby Lance was subjected to all kinds of tests at the hospital before he could be taken home for the first time. Yet, everything came up normal. Lance McLain was a healthy, newborn Cuban boy with an image on his chest. Apparently, it wasn’t even a tattoo. There was no ink residue inside Lance’s skin. The knife had no biological reason for existing there. It just….did. Despite all earthly technology telling it that it didn’t. And Lance loved it.

“It’s so awesome it defies all logic,” Young Lance liked to brag. “Just like me.” Most people assumed Lance was lying.

“It’s a tattoo!” his classmates insisted.

“Yeah right, kid.” the strangers on the bus scoffed.

“How could your parents have done this to you at such a young age?!” Adults questioned.

The latter was a much more terrifying reaction. Lance’s parents had received calls from social services more than once about mutilating their child. It was always cleared up with a call to the hospital and a frantic

“I’m so sorry Mr. and Mrs. McLain, but you must understand, this is unprecedented.” Lance’s parents would assure the social worker that all was well and then everything would return to normal.

The last time it happened was when Lance was ten. A teacher overheard Lance bragging about his “mark”, as Lance called it, and called the police instead of social services. In a blur of red and blue lights, Lance was taken from his family.

“But Officer! You don’t understand! My family didn’t do this to me.” Lance pleaded. The back of the cop car was cold, dark, and unfamiliar. Lance wanted to go home.

“I’m sure they didn’t.” Officer Wilson reassured him. Her eyes seemed kind in the rearview mirror. “We’ll get this sorted out and you’ll be home in no time.” Lance wasn’t home in no time. He spent two weeks in a group home while his family poked, prodded, and outright harassed social services in an effort to get him back. Lawyers were corralled, statements were made, and lines drawn. However, Lance saw none of this. He saw only the dimly lit home with the scratchy sheets. After two days of eating horrible food and crying himself to sleep, Lance stopped feeling anything at all. The other kids tried to engage him. The caretakers at the home fretted over him. None of it made a difference. Lance had stubbornly decided to close up shop. The talkative young boy resolved to not speak or show any kind of emotion again until he saw his family. On his fourth day in the home, Lance was sitting by himself in the mess hall, eating a meager lunch of slop and an apple, when he heard a commotion across the room.

“Hey! That’s mine!” someone shouted.

“So?” a voice taunted.

“So, give it back!” Curious, Lance left his meal and ventured over to where a crowd of kids was steadily forming. The commotion was coming from three boys about Lance’s age. Two beefy guys were standing over a small, dark haired kid. One of the big guys had an apple clutched in his meaty fist.

“Oh yeah? Why should I?” Apple-holding guy sneered. Lance decided to dub him Meathead #1. The kid sitting at the table rose slowly. He was small, and wiry, but the rage in his face was positively terrifying. 

“Because if you don’t,” growled the angry kid, “I will end you.” The Meatheads laughed. 

“Ooooh I’m so scared.” Moaned Meathead #1 through his laughter.

“Me too!” chorused his friend. Some of the other kids on the scene started to laugh as well. Lance watched as the angry kid’s hands curled into fists. In that moment, he had no doubt that Angry kid was going to punch Meathhead #1 right on his disgustingly large nose. 

“Last chance.” Angry kid hissed, terrifyingly quiet. “Give it back.” The Meathead twins regarded their smaller opponent gleefully. Unashamedly revelling in the opportunity to beat someone to a bloody pulp.

“I don’t think so!” Meathead #1 practically sang. “See, I wanted this apple. And when I want something? It belongs to me.” He grinned darkly. “And I don’t take too kindly to people standing in my way.” You could have heard a pin drop in that room. Everyone watched the young opponents glare at each other in silence, knowing that the slightest move could start a fight. The invisible dam between the boys would break, and they would rush each other. Lance prayed silently in Spanish. All of the kids held in a collective breath. Then, Angry Kid took a deliberate step forward. Suddenly, the dam broke.

“Looks like you need a little lesson in respect, New Kid.” growled Meathead #1. The bully started coming around the table towards his target. And, then, before Lance could realize what he was doing, he was elbowing his way into the center of the circle. 

“Hold up!” Lance shouted. “Wait just a second!” All eyes turned to look at him in surprise. Angry kid’s eyes pierced Lance like the dagger on his chest. The Meatheads paused their advance. Total silence descended once again. However, Lance didn’t lose his nerve. He sauntered forward to stand in front of Meathead #1 like he was born to be there. 

“Can I help you?” Meathead #1 asked threateningly. Lance tisked.

“No sir, I think it is I that can help you!” he proclaimed. 

“Help me? Why?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Angry kid hissed from behind Lance’s back. _Helping you._ Lance thought. Lance gave Meathead his most dazzling smile.

“You see, friend,” he paused “Can I call you friend?”

“You can call me Charles.” 

“Alright then, Chuck.” Chuck frowned.

“I said Char-”

“So here’s the deal.” Lance offered. “My buddy here,” he stepped aside to gesture to Angry kid, “is a real nasty piece of work.” 

Angry kid spluttered. 

“Excuse me? I don’t even-”

Lance quickly put a hand over Angry kid’s mouth. Angry kid’s eyes went from angry to murderous. _Geez, does this kid have an off switch?_ , Lance wondered. _I hope he doesn’t bite my hand._ Undeterred, the Cuban flung his other arm casually over the guy’s shoulders. 

“Play along.” he whispered.

“Piece of work or not, I’m sure I can take him.” Chuck sneered, advancing on the two smaller boys. Lance released Angry kid’s mouth and held up his hand placatingly. 

“Oh, I’m sure you could.” he agreed. “You and your friend there.The question is, should you?” Chuck frowned. 

“What?”

“I know he doesn’t look like much,” Lance continued. “-but this kid has really done some bad things.” 

Chuck was unconvinced.

“Oh yeah, like what?” he taunted.

“I know this heathen from my last group home and let me tell you he’s a real,” Lance pinched Angry kid’s cheek fondly, “-bully.”

Angry kid finally shoved Lance away.

“See?” said Lance. 

“Rumor has it, he’s been kicked out of twelve homes for fighting. I’ve watched him steal food from other kids, pick on defenseless preschoolers, and set a world-wide record for most nerd-swirlies in a week. But the worst thing he ever did?” Lance paused, pretending to try and remember. 

“Well,” he conceded. “I never found out exactly what happened. All I know is that poor Antonio Chavez was walking one week and in a wheelchair the next.” Lance regarded Chuck. He didn’t seem afraid. Time for a new tactic.

“You seem like a nice, all-American fellow.” At least, Lance assumed the guy was American. The accent, English language, and entitled attitude kind of gave it away. Chuck straightened a little at the praise. _Nailed it._

“A guy of your caliber shouldn’t even be in the same room as this Mullet-head.” Lance continued. He could feel Angry kid’s glare burning a hole in his head.

“I appreciate you stealing that apple to try and teach this scum-of-the-Earth a lesson, but is he worth you sacrificing your angelic-like morals?”

“What?” Chuck asked dumly.

“Please, don’t stoop to his level.” Lance pleaded with the bully. 

“You’re a great person. You deserve better than this criminal. You’re a hero. This loser isn’t worth your time.” _Dios, I am really laying it on thick._ Lance thought. Chuck seemed to think so too.

“A hero?” he questioned.

“Pfft!” Lance huffed. “Of course you are! I mean, look at all of your fans”. He gestured to the surrounding kids in a grand sweeping motion. A lot of kids suddenly became very interested in their lunches again. But a few of the braver ones, trying to get on Chuck’s good side or help Lance, cheered.

“Yeah, Chuck! You’re the man!”

“Show that kid how a real hero acts!”

“Yeah, you rock!” cried Meathead #2. _Thank you, Meathhead #2._

Lance grinned widely. 

“See, Chuck? Show your fans you’re the greatest guy by being the bigger person. Give the apple back to this stink-wad and go find a really good time.”

Chuck and Meathead #2 exchanged looks. And then, a miracle happened.

“Ugh, yeah. I guess so.” Chuck relented. 

In the end, Lance was never sure what did it. Maybe it was the peer pressure. Maybe it was Chuck’s desire to please his “fan’s”. Maybe it was a matter of pride. Or maybe, Lance’s bizarre attempt at peace keeping was so unexpected that Chuck simply didn’t know how to react. But for whatever reason, the bully placed the apple on the table, tossed one last glare at Angry kid, and walked away. 

*****

Days later, Lance was still miffed about the encounter. He wasn’t mad at the Meathead twins, oh no. He was pissed at Angry kid. After their little show, everyone had gone back to eating and Lance had gone up to his “new friend” looking for a high-five.

_“Up top!” Lance had cheered. When Angry kid made no move to return the gesture, Lance slapped his own hand. Undeterred, the Cuban kid grinned and spoke._

_“My name’s Lance.” he said._

_“Keith.” Lance’s grin widened. He plopped down at Keith’s table._

_“Nice to meet you, Keith. I’d say we make a pretty good team.”_

_“Sure.” Silence descended. After a moment, during which Lance tried to find something to say, Keith spoke._

_“Is there something you want?”_

_“Um, no?”_

_“Then why are you still here?” Lance’s smile faded._

_“Excuse me?”_

_Keith dropped down in his chair and placed the apple back on his tray._

_“I said, ‘Why are you still here?’” Lance frowned._

_“I heard what you said, I just don’t understand why you said it.” He glared at Keith._

_“I just risked my neck to help you!”_

_“I didn’t ask you to help me.” Keith said calmly. “I didn’t need your help.”_

_“Like hell you didn’t!” Lance growled._

_“I didn’t.” Keith spat. He was getting angry again._

_“You were about to get beat up!”_

_“Why do you care so much anyway?!” Keith growled._

_“I don’t!” Lance barked. They were starting to attract attention again._

_“Whatever,” Keith said dismissively. “If you’re not gonna leave, I’m out of here.”_

_And with that, Keith snagged his apple off his tray and left._

Yeah. That happened. So needless to say, Lance was mad. And confused. And honestly, super curious about the other elementary school kid with the dark hair and an even darker presence. Also, Lance deserved a thank you! So, after a couple days of quiet observation, planning, and practicing in the mirror, Lance approached Keith again. 

“Hey there, Keithy!”

“No.” Lance pouted.

“But I haven’t even done anything yet!”

“You’re in my space.”

Keith was sitting with a book by the common room’s biggest window. He was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the loud game playing of the other kids around him. Lance could respect that. He didn’t much feel like playing these days. Lance still missed his family desperately, Although, he wasn’t silent anymore. That first introduction with Keith and the Meatheads had brought Lance’s talkative nature out of stubborn hibernation. _I’m in his space, huh?_ Lance mused. _Yeah, I guess that’s enough with me._ Keith’s fingers stilled in the middle of turning a page.

“What?” he asked. Lance froze.

“I didn’t mean to say that outloud. I uh-” Keith regarded Lance curiously. Lance wondered what it was that he saw, and what it was Keith remembered about their interaction that day in the cafeteria.

“What do you want, Lance?” 

_He remembered my name._

“I want to know what I did to make you hate me.” Keith stared at him flatly.

“I don’t hate you,” He said. Lance snorted.

“Could’ve fooled me! I tried to talk to you after the “fight” the other day and you brushed me off.”

“I brush everyone off.”

“Yes, but why?!”

“That’s none of your business!” Keith barked. Some of the other kids were starting to look over at them. Lance sighed, deflating a little.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. It is none of my business.” _God, what was it about this kid? Why did they fight every time they talked?_

“Right,” Keith agreed, turning back to his book. “My life is none of your business. So, kindly stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and leave me alone. Go find someone else to annoy.” _Excuse me?_

“Hey, I’m trying to take the high road here.” Lance implored. 

“Well take that highroad all the way to the town of ‘Anywhere, but here’. I’m trying to read.” 

“And I’m trying to have a conversation.”

“I don’t feel like talking.”

“Ugh!” Lance exclaimed. “What is your problem?!”

“You.”

“Besides me!” Keith snapped his book shut and stood abruptly. Lance stumbled back a step, not realizing how close to Keith he’d been getting. 

“Here’s the deal, Lance.” Keith growled.

“I don’t like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well the feeling’s mutual.” Lance hissed.

“Then do us both a favor, and don’t talk to me again.” Keith shoved past Lance roughly, and left the room. But Lance was tired of being ignored.

_Oh, it is soooo on._

***

For the next few days, Lance became Keith’s personal shadow. Whenever Lance wasn’t at school, he was following Keith around the home, prattling on about anything he could think of, while Keith stubbornly ignored him. Keith didn’t want to talk to him? Fine. Lance would talk _at_ him, as loud and as often as he could. Lance knew he was being petty. And obnoxious. And not respecting Keith’s right to privacy, but whatever. Keith was a jerk! Soon, a new routine formed.

In the morning, Lance would show up to breakfast. Keith was always there early, reading something at a table by himself. Lance would plop down with his tray in the chair across from Keith and ask how he slept. The first day Lance did this, Keith kindly told Lance to fuck off.

_“What foul language!” Lance had exclaimed, pretending to be scandalized._

_“I thought I told you not to talk to me again.” Keith snapped._

_“Not talking isn’t really a thing that I do.”_

_“You did when you first got here.” Lance beamed._

_“So you noticed me!”_

_“Get out of here Lance!”_

After breakfast, Lance would go to school. He couldn’t follow Keith there, because Keith went to some English-speaking school in the next town, but Lance didn’t let that deter him. He spent all day in class dreaming up new ways to torture Keith and shooting spit balls at his teachers. His favorite teacher to torment was the one who called the police. Until Lance was back with his family, she was never having a spit free day. Mrs. Diaz took his taunting in stride. Lance knew she had only been looking out for him, but still.

When school ended, Lance would rush onto the bus, eager to get back to the home for an afternoon of “Driving Keith Crazy, the Series”. When Lance arrived, he would ask anyone and everyone for Keith’s location, scouring the grounds until he found his target.

“Hi Keithy boy!” he’d say.

Or, “Hi Mullet!”

Or even, “How’s it going jerk-face? Make any enemies today?”

Lance would spend the next couple hours before dinner talking Keith’s ear off until Keith finally exploded and yelled at him to “Please, for the love of God, shut up!”, at which time Lance would tease him about talking. 

_“I thought you weren’t going to talk to me anymore.”_

_“I’m not talking! I’m yelling!”_

_“Tomato, tom-ah-to”_

_“Go away!”_

_“Make me!”_

Keith never did. Lance wasn’t sure why, but for all their taunting, he and Keith never came to blows. Sure Keith had tried to escape him, running off while Lance chased him down, or hiding in the bedrooms after school. It never worked. Lance always found him. One time Keith even tried to skip a meal, to avoid having to sit with Lance, and was dragged into the cafeteria by a caretaker of the home. There was no escape. Lance had won. And yet, Keith never hit him. Never took out his frustration on his new shadow with a fist or even a flick of the wrist. He only yelled, and slammed things, and insulted Lance. 

After a couple days of getting to drive Keith wild, Lance stopped feeling so angry. He started to notice things about Keith. Keith loved apples, but hated oranges. Keith always wore dark clothing. Keith loved to read, but hated writing. Keith was great at banter. And, Keith thought Lance was _funny._ Sometimes, he would catch Keith hiding a chuckle behind his book when Lance was telling one of his stories. Lance still loved annoying Keith, of course he did, but now it was less out of hostility.

Lance noticed a change in Keith too. He still scowled, but less darkly. He still groaned when Lance approached, but he never tried to run off. And when they argued, Lance could have sworn that Keith was _enjoying_ himself. Suddenly, Lance was a lot less homesick. He’d get home eventually. But for now, Lance thought it was nice to have a….. What was Keith to him? An enemy? An acquaintance? They certainly weren’t friends… Even if Keith did occasionally let Lance have his apple at breakfast. _Yeah,_ Lance thought the first time Keith chucked his apple at Lance’s head. _It’s nice to have a….Keith._ Keith pretended he threw the apple to try and hit Lance. But Lance had just been complaining about how hungry he was. 

“Sure, Keith.” Lance said, around a mouthful of apple. “Whatever you say.”

***

On Lance’s tenth day in the home, he was changing out of his school uniform and into regular clothes when he heard a voice. 

“Is that a tattoo?” _Oh no._

Lance looked up to see Meathead #2, who he had since learned was named Jake, gaping at him. _Oh no. Oh no. Oh NO._ Lance froze with shock and fear. He had stopped bragging about his dagger when he came to the home, worried that anyone new seeing it would somehow get his parents into even more trouble. Lance usually went into the bathroom to change, but had made an exception that day because everyone had already gone to dinner. _Almost everyone._

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Lance said quickly, pulling his new shirt down over his chest as fast as he could.

“It’s right there, over your heart. I saw it!”

“I-”

“Hey Chuck get in here!” _Oh no,_ Lance thought. _Not Chuck._

“What are you doing, bonehead? We’ve got to get to dinner.” Chuck said, coming into the room and taking his friend by the arm, ready to drag him down the hallway. Jake pushed him off.

“Dude, forget that! Lance has a tattoo!” Jake exclaimed. Chuck looked at Lance. Lance gulped. Ever since the apple-incident, Chuck had regarded Lance with wariness. Maybe he suspected Lance’s trickery. Maybe he just didn’t like him. Lance wasn’t quite sure. He was never sure about anything with this guy. Ignorant people made unpredictable choices, and Chuck had a skull as hard as a rock and a head full of air. Lance didn’t trust him.

“Oh yeah?” Chuck mused. “Let me see.” He started toward Lance.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about.” Lance tried. “I don’t have a tattoo.” Jake frowned.

“Yes you do. I just saw it!”

“Let me see.” Chuck insisted.

“No.” Chuck tried to reach for him, but Lance ducked behind one of the bunks. 

“Come here you little twerp!” The Meathead cried. He lunged for Lance again. Lance side stepped him and made a break for the door. Jake jumped into his path. 

“Not so fast!” He declared with a smirk. Lance started to panic. 

He had one giant kid in front of him, and another at his back. Both boys were advancing on Lance with satisfied smiles. They knew he was caught. Lance thought frantically. He wasn’t fast enough to slip around Jake, he’d seen the boy play futbol. Lance wasn’t strong enough to fight them off. All Lance had were his meager fists and a penchant for mischief. _Evasion it is._ Lance decided, and leaped at the nearest bunk bed. 

Before either boy could grab him, Lance scrambled onto the top bunk and stood up. Luckily, the ceiling was high enough that he could do so without hitting his head.

“Come back here!” Jake screeched, reaching for Lance’s ankles. There was no time to think. 

“I don’t think so.” Lance taunted, jumping to the nearest bunk. A chase ensued. Lance leaped from bed to bed, making faces at the boys and laughing while they tried in vain to catch him. They stumbled and cursed and made general fools of themselves while Lance leaped around the room like a deer. Lance’s big mistake happened when he laughed a little too hard, standing still a little too long to clutch his stomach. That was all the opening Jake needed. The larger boy got one hand on Lance’s ankle and tugged, pulling his feet out from under him. Lance fell back on the bed.

“Get off me!” Lance cried, fearful once again. But Jake wouldn’t let go of his ankle. Lance kicked him in the face, but Jake used his other hand to grab the foot before it could make contact. 

“Chuck, grab his arms!” Jake called. Chuck was already there. Before Lance could react, Jake let go of his ankles and Chuck hauled Lance off the bed by his torso. _Shit._

The two boys converged on Lance. In a panic, Lance started thrashing around, doing anything he could to escape.

“Keep him still Chuck!”

“Pull up his shirt!” 

“Ow! He bit me!”

“Oh, toughen up!”

When the metaphorical dust settled, Chuck had one meaty hand holding Lance’s head against his chest, while the other secured Lance’s arms and torso. Jake sat on top of Lance’s legs, but not before Lance got in a quick kick to his groin. Tears streaming down his face, Jake punched Lance square in the cheek. _Wow, that hurt._ Lance groaned. He would have grabbed his face, but he couldn’t move his arms. There was only one thing left to do.

“HELP!” Lance cried. No one responded. 

“Yell for help again and this time it’ll be your stomach!” Jake threatened. Lance immediately shut up. It was too late anyway. Jake was already lifting his shirt. 

The two boys observed Lance’s dagger. It was a large image, the hilt of the dagger starting in between Lance’s collarbones, and the tip of the blade ending at the bottom of his sternum. The hilt was darkly colored and seemingly wrapped in a white cloth, the blade a vibrant silver. At the base of the hilt, two horn-like shapes extended out from the knife. Strangest of all though, was the symbol at the top of the blade. Almost like a bolt of lightning, but with softer edges. The boys regarded Lance’s favorite and least favorite part about himself with awe. Chuck was the first to recover.

“Wow McClain, that is the stupidest tattoo I have ever seen.” He laughed.

“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” Jake added, releasing Lance’s shirt.

“No, I don’t I just-”

“Who gave this to you anyway?” Chuck pushed. “Are you part of a gang?”

“Are you in the mafia?” asked Jake.

“No, I’m not. I-”

“Are you a wanna-be hero or something?”

“Do you think you’re batman? You trying to be a vigilante?”

“No I-”

“Was it your parents?” Lance froze. Seconds passed. Too late, Lance tried to dissuade them.

“Haha!” He laughed tensely. “As if!” The boys misinterpreted Lance’s fear as a denial of the truth.

“Oh my God….” Jake breathed. Twin gleeful grins were growing on the boys’ faces. Lance felt his heart stutter in his chest.

“NO!” he cried. “You don’t understand-”

“They fucking branded you!” Chuck concluded excitedly. 

“Poor, Little Lance.” Jake cooed. “Did your mommy and daddy hurt you?” He patted Lance’s injured cheek harder than strictly necessary. Lance hardly felt the sting.

“Please!” Lance insisted. “You can’t tell anyone about this! It’s not what you think! I don’t want them to get in trouble!” Lance was crying now. His fear flowed out of him in waves and he could do nothing to stop it. He didn’t even stop to consider that a reaction would only make things worse. He just wanted them to _go._ To _stop._ Lance didn’t understand why something he had always loved about himself had to be so ugly and unnatural to everyone else. It made him hate himself, and the dagger. _My fault._ Lance thought. Just like he’d thought that day in the common room with Keith. _Me being in anyone’s space is enough. Enough to cause trouble. To cause pain. To ruin everything. I_ am _the problem. Just like Keith said._

The boys laughed at his tears.

“Awwwww Lance! Don’t cry!”

“Yeah Lance, we won’t tell.” Lance didn’t believe them for a second. But he wanted to. 

“Really?” he tried.

“Not really.” Lance wasn’t surprised. But it still hurt. Lance wanted to see the best in people. He wanted others to see the best in him too, to think he was special. That’s why Lance loved showing off his mark so much. Now he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He’d rather have his parents and be happy than be by himself in this place and “special”.

“You got to understand Lance,” Chuck implored mockingly.

“We have to tell. It’s for your safety.”

“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “It’s cause we care about you.” _No you don’t, asshole._

Jake was just opening his mouth to say something else when suddenly he was ripped from Lance’s legs. Something had grabbed him! Shocked, Chuck’s arms loosened around Lance. Lance made use of Chuck’s distraction by quickly throwing his head back. He heard a terrifying _crunch_ when his head collided with Chuck’s nose. 

“Ahhh!” the bully screamed.

Chuck let go of Lance entirely to clutch his face. Lance leaped to his feet and scrambled across a neighboring bottom bunk to put distance between himself and Chuck. 

“You are so dead McClain!” Chuck roared, lunging at him. Chuck didn’t get far. Something launched itself sideways at him. It was something small, wiry, and darkly dressed, with a matching mullet. 

“Keith!” 

Keith and Chuck wrestled on the floor, landing blow after blow. Lance had no idea what to do. He had never actually been in a fight. He looked around for Jake but he was nowhere to be seen. 

“Keith!” he yelled again. No response.

“Keith, come on let’s just get out of here!” Lance was scared, he couldn’t get caught fighting, but he wouldn’t leave Keith. Not when Keith was here to protect him. 

“MULLET!” Lance roared. Keith finally looked up from his opponent at Lance. Lance took an involuntary step backwards. _Keith._ Keith’s eyes were alight with rage. His face shone with sweat and his black hair was wild. And yet, something in him shifted while he looked at Lance. He shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah, okay!” he called. Before Chuck had time to react, Keith dislodged himself from the other boy with a swift elbow to the gut. Together, he and Lance ran from the room.

***

Lance and Keith ran and ran until they came across an empty hallway. They finally stopped to catch their breath.

“I don’t think either of them are after us.” Keith gasped, relieved. Lance didn’t respond. His adrenaline was finally fading. Both boys collapsed against the nearest wall, sinking to the floor almost in unison. With no one to fight and nothing left to lose, Lance couldn’t stop the tears from returning. Before he knew it, he was sobbing again. He could finally feel Jake’s damage to his face and it _hurt._ Lance cried from the pain. He cried for his parents. And he cried for himself, the poor Cuban boy with the bruise on his cheek and the dagger on his chest.

“Ugh! I hate this!” Lance sobbed. “I hate this mark! I hate this place! I just want to go home!” The words fell from his mouth as fast as his tears. Lance knew Keith was listening, knew that Keith didn’t like him, that their peace was tenuous at best, but he didn’t care. Lance had been bottling up his feelings for nine days, and now, the bottle was overflowing.

“Maybe I should just stay here,” he continued, laughing darkly. “My parents are better off without me anyway. My whole family is. All I do is cause trouble for them. For everyone! Me and this stupid knife!” Lance’s whole body was shaking with the force of his sobs. 

“I didn’t ask to be born this way! That wasn’t my fault! But bragging about it was! I should have shut up, I should have gotten it surgically removed, I should have-” Lance’s words caught in his throat when arms came around him. _Keith’s_ arms. 

“What are you doing?” Lance asked throatily. Keith didn’t answer him. He might not have had an answer. Lance certainly didn’t. 

“Keith?”

“Keep going,” Keith encouraged. “Let it out. Tell me everything. Just like usual.”

“Everything?”

“If you want to. I’m listening.”

Lance did exactly that. He told Keith all about being born with the mark, about the way doctors were baffled, about the way Lance had bragged, and about the many anxious visits by social services. At some point during his shaky rambling, Lance felt Keith release him from the embrace. The other boy didn’t go far though. Keith sat directly next to Lance as Lance talked, their shoulders gently pressing together. He never asked a single question. Never interrupted. Never spoke at all. But Lance knew he was listening. He could feel Keith’s eyes on him and hear his occasional hum of assent. 

When Lance got to the part about being taken away to the home in the cop car by Officer Wilson, he got teary again. When had he stopped crying? 

“I thought maybe if I didn’t talk at all here….they might worry and send me home.” Lance confessed. 

“I wasn’t just being stubborn.” Lance laughed through his tears. “Is it stupid that I didn’t realize that until just now?”

“It’s not stupid.” Keith said softly.

“Anyway, Jake saw me changing, and the boys wanted to see the mark so they chased me down and held me down and laughed and now-” Lance took a shaky breath. “Now my parents could be in even more trouble cause they said they were going to report it!” He was sobbing again. 

“Ugh! I just feel so useless! They’re going to report the mark and the fight and I’m gonna go to an even worse home and my parents are going to get arrested and-” 

“Lance, breathe.” Keith pressed a hand to Lance’s knee. Lance slapped it away.

“No, Keith!” he raged. “My parents are out there fighting for me and I’m in here making things worse! I’m probably never going to see them again…”

“You will.”

“You don’t know that!” Lance cried.

“Yes, I do.” Lance looked at Keith for the first time since they’d sat down. Keith sounded completely sure of what he was saying.

“How?” Lance asked. He felt like a drowning kid, looking for a lifeline. With all of the water in his voice, he probably sounded like one too.

“I know because your parents are alive.” Keith said. A shadow passed over his face. _What did_ that _mean?_

“What?” Lance asked aloud. Keith’s shadow disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“Your parents love you, right? They want you back?”

“They shouldn’t.” Lance grumbled self-deprecatingly. Keith forged ahead.

“They love you.” he said firmly. “That means if they’re half as stubborn as you are, they’ll be fighting to get you back for as long as they live. Every breath that you use to annoy me, they’ll use to fight to see you again.” Keith put his hand back on Lance’s knee. This time, Lance didn’t push it off.

“You _will_ see them again..” Lance fought the rising hope in his chest, holding it back like a bad cough.

“But the mark-”

“Your parents will get the proof and get you out. And here? The people in this home can’t report anything the court doesn’t already know. They already know about the mark. A couple more witnesses isn’t going to make a difference.”

“But the fight-”

“We’ll get in trouble, yes. But the adults here are actually pretty nice, I’ve noticed. They don’t take sides. They’ll see the bruise on you, the marks on me, and they’ll punish those two Meatheads as badly as they punish us.” Not even Keith’s casual use of Lance’s nickname for the bullies could placate Lance now. He was determined to find a flaw in Keith’s logic.

“But what if my fighting looks bad for my parents? What if the court thinks I’m angry and repressed?”

Keith snorted.

“You _are_ angry and repressed.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Yeah,” Keith admitted. “I do. There is always the chance that they use this to try and fit you into the profile of a traumatized, abused child….” Lance sucked in a breath.

“-but you’ve got medical records and a bunch of emotionally and physically healthy siblings that say otherwise.” Keith gazed at Lance with, was that _fondness?!_ Lance finally let himself hope. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Lance.” _So are you,_ Lance wanted to say. He’d seen the shadow in Keith’s eyes. He’d seen the way Keith had tore into Chuck. But Keith could share when he wanted to.

“Yeah,” Lance sniffed. “I will be okay. Thank you.” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

***

Keith had been right. There were consequences for the fight, but the consequences were shared by all four boys, despite Chuck’s best efforts to convince the adults that Lance and Keith had started the actual hitting. All four boys had mandatory medical exams, and, when deemed healthy, were assigned to kitchen duty. Chuck and Jake’s “concern” about Lance’s "tattoo" was brushed aside. 

“We already know about that.” The adult care-takers assured the boys. “We get full case studies on everyone who comes through our doors.” Needless to say, Lance was relieved.

Despite the fact that they sometimes served up slop together at meals, Lance did his best to avoid Keith. He was embarrassed about the fight and his subsequent melt down. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d cried in Keith’s arms. How Keith had comforted him while Lance blubbered like a baby. He was ten for crying out loud! Thus, Lance stopped his daily routine of “annoy Keith”, and went back to being alone. He clammed up again. In addition, Chuck and Jake told everyone about Lance’s “tattoo”. A bunch of kids tried to get Lance to talk about it or show them, but it was a losing battle. Lance wasn’t letting anyone hurt him again. 

Admittedly, Lance was a bit confused as to why the Meatheads hadn’t tried to get revenge on him for their kitchen duty humiliation, or Chuck’s broken nose. Once, Lance noticed the two of them glaring at him from down a hallway, but they glanced fearfully at something over his shoulder and quickly looked away. When Lance turned around to look for what the boys had been so scared of, he thought he saw a flash of black hair disappearing around a corner.

On the fourth day of this relieved silence, Lance was sitting in the common room, reading a book, when he heard a familiar voice approaching.

“That’s usually my seat.” Keith teased. Lance glanced up in surprise.

“Keith?”

“Hey Lance.” Keith greeted. “Wanna take a walk?”

If it had been anyone else, Lance would have declined, but this was his…. Keith. Keith had never sought out Lance’s company before. Lance could say only one thing.

“Sure.”

In his haste to accept Keith’s offer, Lance forgot all about being embarrassed.

****

The hot spring sun blazed above them as Keith and Lance walked around the home’s extensive property. Royal palms dotted the grass, sending out lines of blessed shade. Vibrant flowers, shiny insects, and weeds ran rampant under the boys’ feet. 

“These grounds could use some up-keeping.” Lance noted. Keith glanced at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My family owns a farm with a huge garden.” Lance admitted. “My parents would never tolerate these weeds and tall grass.” Lance wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the ghost of a smile on Keith’s face.

“This isn’t a garden, it’s just a yard.” he replied.

“All the same, you can’t let invasive species run wild like this.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the nature type.” Lance glanced at Keith, affronted.

“I live on Earth don’t I? Of course I’m the nature type.” He plucked a particularly stunning white ginger from the grass, offering it to Keith.

“This is our planet, our home. We should all care about it.” Keith stared at him. Keith stared at the flower. Keith looked back and forth so quickly it was a wonder the kid’s eyes didn’t hurt. Lance rocked side to side uncomfortably, the flower still outstretched. After a few moments, Lance realized Keith wasn’t going to take the peace offering. He wasn’t sure why he’d offered it to him anyway. They weren’t friends. Keith had made it clear that he didn’t want that. It’s just…. The other kid was so pale, and his hair was so dark. Lance couldn’t help thinking the white ginger would look lovely in that hair. He flushed.

“It’s just a flower, Keith.” Lance said quickly. “It’s not gonna bite you.”

Keith didn’t seem sure. But after a moment, he reached out and carefully plucked the flower from Lance’s fingers. He held it a full arm’s length in front of his face, regarding it carefully. Lance laughed, relieved. _Awkwardness averted._

“It’s not a bomb either.” Lance insisted. “This is our national flower, La Flor de Mariposa. Although, you’d call it a white ginger, being from America.”

Keith’s mullet whipped around as he turned back to Lance. _Why in the world would a ten year old have a mullet?_ Lance wondered. _Why would anyone have a mullet for that matter?_

“How’d you know I was from America?” Keith questioned, a hint of suspicion clouding his tone. Lance scoffed.

“Have you seen yourself lately? You’re way too pale to be from Cuba. And that _accent._ ” Keith frowned, pulling the flower to his chest.

“What’s wrong with my accent?”

“Nothing!” Lance assured. “It’s just got a twang.” Keith looked horrified.

“What?!”

“But it’s not bad!” Lance said quickly. He reached for Keith’s shoulder, then thought better of it. “I can just tell you’re from America! Maybe the south….” Keith’s eyes went wide. Lance was really panicking now. 

“But what do I know?! Keep your secrets and ignore me I just…..” Lance covered his face with his hands. “Dios, I’m making a huge mess of this.” Silence descended. The only sounds to reach Lance’s ears was the buzzing of the insects in the grass and his own frantic heartbeat. Eventually, Keith spoke.

“No, you’re not.” he whispered. Lance peeked out from behind his fingers. 

“I’m not?”

“Come on Lance, let’s go sit in the shade.” 

Lance hesitantly shuffled after Keith to the nearest Palm tree. Keith made himself comfortable at the base of the tree, while Lance sprawled across the shaded grass. He dug his fingers into the Earth to ground himself. 

“So why’d you want to take a walk with me?”

“Why’d you give me this flower?” Lance huffed indignantly.

“I asked you first,” he insisted. There was that ghost of a smile again, making Keith’s dark eyes a tiny bit lighter.

“I guess if I have to have a friend in this place, I’d want it to be you.” he admitted. Lance could have died of shock.

“What?!” he exclaimed. Keith shrugged, like it was nothing.

“You seem nice enough, you’re new here too, I can’t seem to shake you anyway, and you helped me with those jerk-offs when we met so you’re clearly not a total basket-case.” 

“I still haven’t gotten a thank you for that, by the way.”

“And you’re not going to.” Keith insisted, but he was smiling. It was a real smile this time. Full, bright, brilliant, and taking over half of Keith’s face. Lance couldn’t help smiling back.

“Fine, but you could at least apologize for acting like a jerk afterwards.” he teased, not really angry about the whole thing anymore. Keith was smiling. Keith the boy who stood up to guys twice his size. Keith the loner who reads in the middle of a crowded room. 

“Nope.” Keith said stubbornly. “Not gonna apologize.” Lance couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“Well alright then. But you owe me, Mullet!” Keith’s grin faded.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“What was that, Mullet? I couldn’t hear you around the outrageous amount of hair covering your head.”

“It’s not like it’s in my mouth! You can hear me fine.” Keith was getting annoyed. Lance’s grin only expanded.

“It’s so easy to push your buttons.” he teased.

“Only because you’re so annoying!”

“Damn right I am!” Lance cheered. Keith glared at him. 

“That is not something to be proud of.”

“Nah, you like it. You said you wanted to be my friend.” 

“I’m starting to rethink that.”

“You liiiiike me. You think I’m niiiiice.”

“Shut up Lance!” Lance laughed and laughed and laughed. God it felt good to laugh again. Eventually, Keith laughed too. When both boys had settled, Lance watched Keith. Lit with laughter and the surrounding sunlight, Lance was shocked to discover that Keith’s eyes were _violet_. 

“Your eyes!” Lance exclaimed. Keith looked puzzled, but he was still smiling.

“Yeah? What about them?”

“They’re purple!” Keith chuckled.

“You never noticed?” Lance felt a bit embarrassed.

“I always thought they were darker…. I think it’s because you never smile.” Lance admitted. Keith frowned.

“See?” Lance said with a laugh.

“Well, you got me there.” Keith relented. The boys fell into a comfortable silence.

“Lance?” Keith asked eventually.

“Yeah?”

“I know you’ve been avoiding me.” Lance froze.

“What? I don’t-”

“Don’t try to deny it.” Keith warned.

Lance sighed resignedly. 

“Fine, I have been.”

“Can I ask why?”

Lance laid back on the grass and looked up at the sky. It was a perfect, cerulean blue. Not a cloud in sight.

“I was embarrassed about the whole crying shebang,” Lance confessed. Keith sighed with...relief? But all he said was,

“Oh.”

Lance wondered if Keith had thought he was mad at him. If Keith had worried about it. The thought made Lance’s chest feel warm. _He really does care._

“Keith?” Lance started.

“Yeah?”

“You listened to me the other day. Actually,” Lance laughed “-you’ve been listening to me since we met.” He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Keith seriously. 

“I want you to know that I could do the same for you, if you wanted. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge.” Keith looked at him doubtfully. 

“Fine!” Lance relented. “I won’t judge _that much_.” He beamed at Keith.

“If you need to tell me something important, just say so, and I will keep the teasing to a minimum, I promise.” Keith stared at Lance. That familiar darkness traveled over Keith’s expression, the same shadow Lance had seen during his meltdown on the hallway floor. Keith seemed to be considering something, maybe multiple somethings. He looked down at the flower still clutched to his chest, then up at Lance, then back to the flower. _What is it with Keith, me, and this frickin’ flower?_ Lance wondered. Keith’s gaze eventually settled on Lance. He seemed to have decided something. Dragging a hand through his ridiculous hair, Keith took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Lance, I-”

“Boys!” A voice called. “It’s time for dinner! Come on up now!”

The spell was broken.

“Come on, Lance.” Keith encouraged, jumping quickly to his feet. “Let’s go up.”

Lance couldn’t help feeling disappointed. But, at least the violet was still in Keith’s eyes, the light was still there. And Keith, however guardedly, was smiling at Lance. They were _friends._ For now, that was enough. Lance grinned and rose, falling into step beside Keith. Lance thought he saw Keith slip the flower into the pocket of his jeans, but he wasn’t sure. _Maybe he’ll open up to me tomorrow._ Lance thought hopefully.

Keith never got the chance.

The two boys had breakfast together the next morning, bade each other farewell for the day, and left for school. At the end of the school day, Lance’s parents were there to pick him up, custody newly restored. Lance was overjoyed to be reunited with them. He was so excited to go home! But Lance couldn’t help mourning his friend. 

“I never got to say goodbye to him.” Lance would say. By the time Lance convinced his parents to take him back to the home for a proper goodbye, Keith had been transferred back to America. 

“Fighting,” they said, in response to Lance’s inquiries. 

“Almost took another kid’s eye out.” 

It was the first time Lance ever considered that his made-up story about Keith the “Angry Kid” might have been true.

  
  


  
  


  
  
  


  
  
  


  
  
  


  
  
  


  
  
  
  


  
  
  


  
  



	2. We're "Not Friends"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is so long! I just had a lot to say. Thank you so much for your kind words about chapter one. <3 <3 It meant soooo much to me. Please tell me what you think of this new chapter! (Also, let me know if you have any questions.) P.S.-You guys are gonna start to recognize some scenes now :D

Keith had always hated the flower on his chest. The image, imprinted there since Keith’s birth, set him apart from everyone else. As if Keith needed a reminder that he was different. He already stuck out like a sore thumb at school. Keith was the antisocial, weird kid who lived with his Dad in the desert. In class, surrounded by kids with two parents and two-story houses, Keith felt like an outcast, an alien. He told his father so one day.

“Dad,” five year old Keith implored “please don’t make me go back there!” His Dad’s face immediately scrunched up with concern.

“What happened, Keith?” He asked kindly.

“Nothing! That’s the problem!” Keith cried. Even as a kid Keith had been quick to anger. But his Dad was never fazed by it.

“Which means?...”

“Nothing happens because no one will talk to me! No one tries and when I try… I always do it wrong.” Young Keith sniffled.

“At school, I feel like an alien.” Keith didn’t understand it back then, why his Dad looked so sad to hear those words. He didn’t understand the longing in his eyes. Or the sorrow. Keith was too young to name those emotions, and too inexperienced to know the reason for them.

“I know you do, son. I know you do.” Keith’s Dad said. He swept Keith into a hug and let Keith cry it out. Keith went back to school the next day heavy with weariness, but filled with love. He didn’t have a mom, or friends, or a two-story house, but he had his Dad. His Dad loved Keith unconditionally. And to Keith, that was everything.

“We all feel like aliens at some point in our lives.” Keith’s Dad would say. “You just have to push through the muck long enough to find a fellow alien to ride it out with.” He’d smile and ruffle Keith’s hair. 

“You’ll find your place and your people, Champ. I know it.” Keith would smile and accept it, because his Dad was bigger, and older, and thus omniscient. It still felt awful though, being alone. Feeling like the weird kid, out of place in his own skin. The flower reminded Keith of that.

After Keith’s father died, he hated the flower even more. It mocked Keith with its beauty. In the middle of the night, in the squeaky bunk bed at the group home, Keith would rake his nails down his chest and pretend he was scratching the flower away. _Get away from me! I never wanted you!_ He’d think angrily. It almost brought Keith comfort, having something to hate besides his circumstances. 

When that wasn’t enough, Keith decided to hate other kids. The kids that laughed in the school yard. The kids who had never talked to him and now openly whispered. The kids who had someone to go home to at night. He started picking fights, testing limits. Keith liked seeing just how far he could push his luck before he got in trouble again. Everything was about getting his anger out. A lot of that anger was at his Dad, for running into that burning building and leaving Keith alone, but Keith hated admitting that. Keith buried those thoughts down deep. And, every time he hit something, they only sank down deeper.

He was bounced from school to school, and from home to home. No one knew what to do with the angry, dark-haired orphan with the giant chip on his shoulder. Keith got used to moving. He also got used to being alone. Eventually, Keith stopped caring about feeling like an alien. _At least I’m an alien who knows how to throw a punch,_ Keith mused. And he did. Keith had started out losing every fight, but as he grew, so too did his knowledge and experience. The kid learned how to dodge, to land a blow, to wrestle, and how to take a hit. He wondered what his father would think. _No, anything, but that._

After a year of fighting, Keith was tired. The ten-year-old still had that chip on his shoulder, but his fury had lessened. Keith stopped instigating fights and tried just not engaging with anyone. He tried focusing on his studies. He tried treating his fellow peers with less open hostility and more with quiet disinterest. For the most part, it seemed to work, but not totally. At every group home, there was always one kid with a superiority complex looking to put someone in their place. Keith’s small stature and unaffected exterior drew in bullies like moths to a flame. 

“Why are you all alone?” They’d say.

“Does poor Wittle Keith not have any friends?”

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

When they approached him like that, Keith couldn’t help but egg them on. These dufuses were offering him their asses on a silver platter, and Keith was just supposed to say no? Maybe Keith was tired of _picking_ fights, but he had no qualms about starting them. Thus, every time a bully approached Keith with friends at their back and a smirk on their lips, Keith found himself in a new group home. 

Each home was stricter than the last. And yet, none of them seemed to keep Keith from getting into scrapes. Trouble always found him, and Keith was never afraid to push back.

*******

Following one particularly bad incident, during which Keith had accidentally broken a kid’s finger, Keith had a serious sit-down with his social worker.

“Keith, have you ever tried just using your _words_?!” his social worker, Mr.Shelby asked, exasperated and running out of options. Keith shrugged.

“In my experience, words are never what these guys are looking for.” 

“Yes, but do you have to give them what they’re looking for?!” Keith contemplated that. 

“I guess not.” 

“Take my advice,” Mr.Shelby offered. “The next time a big, angry kid approaches you, give them a warning first.” 

Keith vowed to try it, if only to get Mr.Shelby off his back. Also, to give the guy a break. Because if Keith was honest, he kind of liked Mr.Shelby. Keith was also really starting to like school. How was he going to learn anything if he had to keep switching around all the time? 

“So, where am I going this time Mr.Shelby?” Keith asked. Mr.Shelby sighed. 

“Clearly this whole ‘ramp up the discipline’ thing isn’t working with you, so I’m trying a new approach. Let’s get you out into the sunshine.” Keith frowned, confused. 

“I’m from Texas, how much sunnier can you get?” Mr.Shelby grinned widely at Keith. _Uh oh._

“Have you ever been to Cuba?”

“What?” Keith asked dumbly. With a fond smile, Mr.Shelby explained the situation.

Apparently, the U.S. government had no qualms about sending their underage citizens to group homes in foreign countries. At least, nearby foreign countries like Cuba, Mexico, or Canada. When Keith asked Mr.Shelby why he wasn’t being sent to Mexico, “It’s a sunny forgien country that’s literally right next to Texas!”, Mr.Shelby told him that the current political climate there was slightly unstable. Keith grumbled and whined, even lowering himself so far as to beg, but it was no use. Mr.Shelby had made up his mind. And Keith, though he didn't know it at the time, would forever be grateful for that.

Four years later, Keith still remembered almost every detail of his short time in Cuba. It was branded into his thoughts, not unlike the flower pattern on his chest. In fact, Keith’s flower was the reason he couldn’t forget. How do you forget about the only other person in the world like you? That person being Lance mother-fucking McClain didn’t exactly help matters. Of course, Lance hadn’t been just like Keith. He remembered Lance as being loud, friendly, and extremely obnoxious. However, the cuban boy had told Keith something that made them unequivocally similar. Lance was born with an image on his chest.

Keith had never seen the mark. The fight with Chuck and What’s-His-Name occured after the boys had already dropped Lance’s shirt back down over his body. Keith only heard about the image of the knife from Lance. Lance, who curled up on a hard, hallway floor and told Keith his most closely-guarded feelings. Lance, who actually tried to _befriend_ Keith, and succeeded. Lance, who got Keith to belly laugh for the first time since his father died. Lance, the boy with the dagger on his chest and the flower in his hand. A flower that, inexplicably, adorned Keith’s skin. _“A White Ginger”,_ Lance had called it. Yeah, it was kind of hard to forget all of that. 

So of course, after four whole years, when Keith finally sees Lance again, he recognizes him immediately. 

*****

The day Keith reunited with Lance was his first day at the Galaxy Garrison. Young Keith, now almost fifteen years old, couldn’t wait to get started. The orphan had never really allowed himself to have aspirations. Dreams of any kind were hard to come by when you were constantly alone and sheltered. Whether or not you were used to it didn’t matter. To find inspiration, you needed experience, or at least a helping hand. Keith’s helping hand came in the form of Takashi Shirogane. If not for Shiro’s encouragement, Keith never would have dreamed that he could be a pilot. Now, there he was, saying goodbye to group homes forever and embracing the opportunity to explore space. It was more than Keith had ever dared hope for.

The morning of his first day, Keith was practically vibrating with giddy anticipation. In fact, Keith was so excited that by the time his bus rolled to a stop in front of the Garrison, he was already on his feet. After giving the bus driver a quick nod of thanks, Keith leapt from the vehicle and made a bee-line for the front gate. However, the closer he got, the larger the gates became, until they were all that he could see. Keith felt like a mouse staring into the open maw of a lion. Only, the lion was metal and the size of a three-story house. Keith’s frantic run slowed to a measured walk. Eventually, he stopped moving all together. The orphan gripped the straps of his small backpack with nervous, shaking fingers. _It’s just a wall, Keith,_ he thought to himself encouragingly. _You can do this._

“Yeah, Keith. You can do this.” someone said. 

“Ah!”

Keith whipped around so fast he lost his balance. A pair of long, tan arms caught him.

“Woah, there!” The other person said with a laugh. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” Enraged, Keith pushed them away roughly. 

“Oh yeah? Then what did you mean to-” The heated words died in Keith’s throat. He had finally gotten a good look at the asshole who caught him and it was _Lance. No fucking way,_ Keith thought. _It can’t be._ But it was. The cuban teen was a bit taller, and his hair was a little wilder, but those bright blue eyes and matching grin were unmistakable. _Lance McClain._ For a moment, Keith was overjoyed. This was really happening! Lance was real and he was here with Keith. His first and only friend was back. And then, Lance opened his mouth.

“Hello?” he asked tentatively. “Weirdo kid who talks to himself? You in there?” Lance was waving a hand in front of Keith’s face, trying to get his attention. Keith’s trance was broken. 

“I wasn’t talking to myself.” Keith huffed, annoyed. Lance scoffed.

“Could have fooled me!” He brought his eyebrows together and hunched his shoulders in a crude imitation of Keith.

“ _It’s just a wall, Keith. You can do this.”_ Lance said in an over exaggerated low voice. Keith flushed. He hadn’t realized he’d been talking outloud. 

“I was uh, that was-”

“I was uh, that was-” Lance mimicked. Keith’s flush of embarrassment deepened with anger. 

“Stop copying me!” he spat. Lance’s grin widened.

“Stop copying me!” 

“Seriously, this is-”

“Seriously, this is-” Keith had had enough. He stalked towards Lance.

“What are you, five?!” He growled accusingly. Lance snickered.

“Nah, just not afraid to have a good time.” He grinned at Keith smugly. “And annoying you? This is the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”

Keith couldn’t believe it. Seriously, _this_ was the guy he’d befriended years ago? The great Lance McClain? He must have really romanticized the memory of having a friend because Lance was _terrible._ The Cuban teen was annoying, cocky, and way too immature for Keith’s liking. Ten-year-old Keith had _supremely_ poor taste in people. 

Even worse than Lance’s personality (if that was possible) was the fact that he didn’t seem to recognize Keith _at all._ And, though Keith didn’t want to admit it, that _hurt._

“Yeah?” Keith asked Lance angrily. “Well, the fun’s over. I have somewhere to be.”

And with that, he turned and walked away. 

“It was nice to meet you!” Lance called out to his retreating back. Keith flashed a lewd hand gesture over his shoulder without stopping. Between the intimidating size of the Galaxy Garrison and Lance, Keith would take the Garrison. 

He could hear Lance laughing over his shoulder. Even if it wasn’t meant to be malicious, the sound was like a knife through Keith’s heart. _A knife_ , Keith remembered. _Lance’s knife. Our marks. The flower. He gave me my flower…..It can’t be a coincidence._ Keith pushed his swirling thoughts aside. Lance and his stupid mark couldn’t ruin this day for Keith. This was Keith’s chance to start over. And he’d be damned if some jerk from his past would ruin it. Starting today, Keith wasn’t the broken kid from the group home. He was a future pilot. With new resolve, Keith gripped the straps of his tiny backpack and strode determinedly into the lion’s den. 

*****

Life at the Galaxy Garrison took some getting used to. Eating, sleeping, and taking classes inside of a giant, metal building was beyond weird. Of course, the first-year cadets were allocated time to spend outside, but these moments were few and far between. 

“It’s all part of training you Cadets for the harsh environment of space.” Commander Iverson told Keith’s class one day. 

“You don’t get ‘outside play time’ when you’re living in a spaceship. Metal walls are all you’ll know.” 

Most of the Cadets seemed worried by this. Lance in particular looked like he was going to be sick. _Guess the boy from bright, sunny Cuba doesn’t like the idea of being trapped inside._ Keith thought gleefully. Of course, Keith didn’t like it either, but he tried not to think about that. 

Even more unsettling than the metal walls caging Keith in were the rules suddenly thrust upon him. Wake up at five. Get to breakfast by five thirty. Work out at six. The list went on and on. Keith’s entire day, every day at the Garrison, was planned out for him down to the minute. And he hated every second of it. The teen had never done well in group homes with especially strict attitudes. In those homes, when he wasn’t fighting, Keith always did his level best to ignore regulations (and the resulting ranting and raving of his so called “superiors”). Not only did Keith have a chip on his shoulder, but he was an independent spirit who liked doing things his own way. Adults always hated that. 

Keith tried to follow the Garrison’s rules, he really did. But there were so many that he found it hard to keep track of them. Luckily, Commander Iverson never wasted an opportunity to remind him.

“Pull out that shirt collar!” he’d say. 

“No running ahead, Cadet!”

“That hair better be brushed and out of your face when I see you tomorrow!”

“Was that a smile, Kogane? Drop and give me thirty!”

After a week of this nonsense, Keith told Shiro about it. The two guys were sitting on a couch in one of the student common rooms. It was during a free period for the first and second year Cadets, so there were a few people milling about. However, upon seeing Shiro, they all steadily trickled out of the room. Soon, it was just him and Keith.

“I don’t get it!” Keith exclaimed once they were alone. 

“Why does Iverson only pick on me?” 

“Maybe he just knows you can take it.” Shiro suggested. Keith snorted.

“Shiro, that’s why _you_ pick on me.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

The two guys laughed. With no one around but Shiro to lecture him, Keith flung his body sideways on the large couch. Shiro eyed Keith’s scuffed up boots on the cushion next to him with distaste, then raised an eyebrow at Keith. 

“What?” Keith asked innocently. Shiro sighed, shaking his head fondly.

“You want to know why Iverson picks on you?” he offered. 

“Um, yeah, that’s why I asked.” Keith said snarkily. Shiro ignored him. 

“Iverson picks on you because you do stuff like this.” He gestured to Keith’s boots on the couch.

“I put my dirty shoes on the furniture?” 

“You’re insubordinate.” 

Keith’s blossoming smile died on his face.

“Oh” he said softly. Avoiding eye contact with Shiro, Keith sat up. He stared down at his boots, now back on the ground, and tried to come up with something to say. When another, larger pair of boots came to rest next to his own, Keith knew Shiro had shuffled down the couch to sit beside him. 

“Keith,” Shiro said kindly. “I know you’re trying. But you have to do more than follow rules here.” He put his hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

“You have to show that you _care_ about following them.” Suddenly angry, Keith shrugged Shiro’s hand off of him.

“But I _don’t_ care! The rules are stupid!” he raged.

“Keith-” Shiro tried.

“No, Shiro! They don’t make any sense!” Keith’s fury took him to his feet and he began to pace the room. 

“I have to run with the group during workouts, even when I know I can go faster, I have to do what my engineer suggests even if I’m sure they’re wrong, and I have to keep my hair brushed and clean at all times, or else I get push-ups. As if outer space is going to care that I have a bedhead! Seriously, what’s up with these priorities?!” Keith finished his tirade and looked to Shiro for answers. 

“Are you done?” Shiro asked him calmly. His cool, level headed demeanor in the face of Keith’s fire made the younger boy feel childish. Keith felt his anger dissipating, shame rising to take its place. 

“Yes, I’m done.” Keith said stiffly. He hesitated a moment. 

“Sorry, Shiro.” he added quietly. Shiro gave him a soft smile.

“It’s okay Keith. I get that it’s frustrating.” He acknowledged. 

“But I promise you, everything these guys teach you, they teach you for a reason.” He gestured for Keith to rejoin him on the couch. Hesitantly, Keith did.

“How do you think I got to be where I am today?” Shire continued. “Who do you think taught me how to be a pilot?”

Keith had never thought about that before. 

“I guess, Iverson did.” He realized. Shiro nodded.

“Most of the instructors _you_ have, _I_ had. And look at me now.” Keith grinned at Shiro.

“22 years old, and the youngest leader of an off-planet mission to date.” Keith supplied appreciatively. Shiro smiled.

“That’s right.” 

Keith thought about that for a moment. If he closed his eyes and really tried, Keith could picture a younger Shiro running with the Cadets in the gym, or painstakingly brushing his hair in the morning so Iverson wouldn’t yell at him. 

“I guess if these guys taught you, they must know something that I don’t.” Keith admitted. He was rewarded with a pat on the back from Shiro.

“They know a lot of something’s that you don’t, but you’ll learn.” Shiro insisted. “I believe in you.” 

_I believe in you._ Keith could count the number of times someone had said that to him on one hand. He took a deep, steadying breath.

“Alright. So where do I start? The learning, I mean.” Shiro’s grin was so bright, Keith very nearly went blind.

“Let’s start with the whole ‘caring’ thing.” Shiro advised. 

“I know you feel like the rules here are backwards, and stuffy, and unnecessary, and that’s fine for now. Like I said, you’ll learn. The real trick is pretending like you care.” Keith chuckled.

“You want me to ‘fake it till I make it’?” 

“Yes, exactly!”

“Do you realize how basic you sound?” Keith asked judgmentally. Shiro looked personally offended.

“Classic sayings are classic for a reason.” He insisted passionately. 

Keith laughed at his….friend? Keith wasn’t sure if he and Shiro were actually friends yet. All Keith knew was that he felt more comfortable around Shiro than he had around anyone since…..Well, since he met ten-year-old Lance. 

“Anyway,” Shiro continued, pulling Keith from his thoughts.”- just try this. If an instructor berates you, don’t smile or laugh. Take it seriously.” Keith nodded to show he was listening.

“If they correct you on something? Pretend like you really care by making the correction as quickly as possible and thanking them for the advice. Thank you goes a long way with these guys, trust me.” Shiro said companionably.

“Using their official title never hurts either. And for the love of god Keith, keep your smartass comments to yourself. No back talk. No sarcasm. Got it?” 

“Yeah.” Keith decided. “I’ll give it a try.”

“Good.” Shiro said, obviously relieved. He rose steadily to his feet. 

“Free period’s almost up, Keith. Let’s get you back to class.”

Keith grinned excitedly. Because, as much as Keith hated all of the rules at the Garrison, he loved the classes. _Let the learning begin._

***

After talking with Shiro, Keith really did improve. Instead of passively following the rules when it suited him, Keith made an effort to embody them. When Keith couldn’t get his hair to stay out of his face, he put it in a pony-tail. When Keith wanted to run faster in gym-class, he slowed down enough that he had to sprint to catch up with the other cadets. Keith stopped smiling when instructors reprimanded him and adopted a more respectful, serious attitude. Shiro never failed to complement Keith on his progress.

“You’re doing great Keith,” he’d say. Or, “Iverson told me today that you’ve been really improving in the simulator.”

Of course, Keith still had disciplinary issues now and then, but the scenarios became much less frequent. Keith wanted to be a pilot more than he hated his new, strict regimen. Having to hold back an occasional snarky comment was a small price to pay for the chance to travel space.

After a couple weeks spent modifying his behavior, Keith started to become accustomed to the Galaxy-Garrison way of life. As a result, he felt a lot more relaxed. Keith began to appreciate little things about his routine. He liked the required morning workout before class, the delicious food in the commissary, and the Cadet common rooms where he could curl up and read a book. Also, Keith had a dorm room to himself. A whole room! He couldn’t believe it. Growing up in group homes, Keith had never had a space to call his own. Now, he did. 

The only thing about the Garrison that Keith could not get used to were the other cadets. Specifically, Lance mother-fucking McClain. After their initial interaction outside the gate, Keith saw Lance _everywhere._ Being a fellow first-year cadet, the Cuban teen was in all of Keith’s classes. In class, Lance never failed to attract attention to himself. His favorite pastimes seemed to be constantly making stupid comments and/or hitting on girls. Lance did both of these things extremely loudly and without shame. Keith might have been able to ignore him, if it weren’t for Lance’s other favorite pastime….annoying Keith. 

_“Annoying you? This is the most fun I’ve had in weeks!”_ Lance had said on their first day at the Garrison. Keith really should have realized what that meant. It meant that Lance became a perpetual thorn in Keith’s side. 

In class, Lance couldn’t do much more than shoot spitballs at Keith and make faces, but outside of class, he tortured Keith with verbal stupidity.

“Hey Mullet,” Lance would say. “Wanna hear a joke?”

Or, “Keith! Buddy! Pal! Whatcha up to?”

If Keith didn’t answer him, which he almost never did, Lance would poke him or call his name over and over again until Keith snapped. Lance always seemed to love it when Keith snapped.

“Your face is so red!” Lance would laugh. 

“And yours is so ugly!” Keith would shout.

“Oooo, nice comeback, Mullet.”

One morning, Lance came up to Keith at breakfast with one hand behind his back. At the time, Keith was sitting alone at a table in the far corner, munching half-heartedly on an apple. 

“Hey Keith!” Lance greeted him cheerily. Keith’s bite of apple caught in his throat. He started hacking and coughing in an effort to dislodge it.

“Awwww, Keith!” Lance cooed. “Look at you! You’re so happy to see me that you’re getting all choked up!” 

If he didn’t already feel like he was dying, Keith would have murdered Lance.

“So Keith,” the oblivious boy continued. “I have a little surprise for you!”

_I’m still choking, you idiot!_ Keith screamed in his mind. He made the universal sign of choking by overlapping his hands at the base of his neck and looked at Lance pointedly. Lance didn’t seem to notice. He just kept talking.

“I brought you a present!” Lance said excitedly. “It was a little hard to come by considering we don’t exactly have an arts and crafts room around here, but…..”

While Lance blabbered on enthusiastically, Keith was steadily turning blue. _Shut up, shut up, shut up and look at me!_ Keith silently begged. His fellow cadet paid him no heed. Keith was starting to panic. He was running out of oxygen and out of time. Keith could feel his lungs scrunching in on themselves. His chest was starting to really hurt. Desperate for assistance, Keith scanned the room. None of the other military personnel in the cafeteria were looking his way. Everyone was completely invested in either their food, or the conversation at their table. Lance was his only hope. In a last ditch effort to get Lance’s attention, Keith stood up and prepared to slam his hand on the table.

“-who finally got them for me!” Lance was saying. And then, _bang!_ Keith hit the table loudly. 

“Um, rude!” Lance admonished. “I was talking!” Keith hit the table again. Lance glared at Keith. His eyes widened. Lance had noticed that Keith was still coughing! _Yes, finally!_

“Woah, Keith.” Lance said. “I appreciate your commitment to the “choked up” bit, but you can stop pretending now.”

 _Help me, you asshole!_ Keith thought. He pointed to his throat, made the choking sign again, and then waved his arms around wildly, all the while continuing to hack. He probably looked insane. He certainly felt crazy. Crazy afraid, that is. Keith locked eyes with Lance and tried to communicate that fear. 

“Hey,” Lance said with a laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you were actually-” 

Lance’s face blanched. _And there it is._

“ _Dios Mio_ , you’re choking!” He cried. _Yeah, no shit._ Lance dropped whatever he’d been holding behind his back and raced around the table to Keith. It was a good thing too, because Keith could feel his eyes getting heavy. He was about to go unconscious.

“I’m gonna try something.” Lance said quickly. “Just bear with me.” Keith felt himself being bent over. 

“Ready?” Lance asked him. Keith coughed.

“Right, you can’t talk. Okay! Here we go!”

Lance hit the choking cadet’s back five times with the heel of his hand. Nothing happened.

“Okay Keith, I’m going to give you the heimlich maneuver.” Lance proclaimed. “Don’t move!” Suddenly, Keith felt two strong arms reaching around his naval. 

“On the count of three!” Lance cried. Keith began to pray.

“One!” _Please let this work._

“Two!” _PLEASE let this work!_

“THREE!” Lance thrust his hands inward and upward on Keith’s stomach, trying to help Keith spit out the apple.

“AHHHH!” Lance screamed. _Ahhhhh!_ Keith thought.

By then, everyone else in the room had realized what was happening. The other cadets, and a few senior officers, stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle. Lance was yelling. Keith was blue in the face. Both of them were flailing. A couple people moved in to try to help, but before they got the chance, something large flew out of Keith’s mouth. It was the bite of apple! Keith could breathe again! Unfortunately, Lance didn’t know that.

“Don’t worry, Keith!” Lance yelled in his ear. “I’ve got you! You’re gonna be okay!”

He kept throwing his hands into Keith’s naval. Keith struggled to breathe in between thrusts.

“No-” _Ow!_

“Lance-” _Oof!_

“I can breathe-” Lance finally heard his wheezing attempts at speech.

“ _Aye, mierda_!” The other boy cried. “ _Lo siento mucho_!” Lance released Keith immediately. Unfortunately, Keith didn’t have the strength to stand. The second that Lance let him go, he fell to the ground in a heap. 

“Ow.” Keith said weekly.

“KEITH!” Lance hovered over him frantically. 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you were choking!” The Cuban boy fretted. Through his mental fog, Keith noted that Lance actually sounded scared for him. _Huh, he cares about me._ And then, _Wow, I’m tired._ Keith’s eyes started to flutter shut.

“Somebody help!” he heard Lance cry. 

Suddenly, other voices joined Lance’s.

“Kogane, can you hear me?”

“Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.”

“Holy shit, is he gonna be okay?!”

“Mom, I need you to pick me up. This place isn’t for me.”

The cafeteria delved into complete chaos as people scrambled to either help Keith, watch curiously, or get out of the way. However, Keith saw none of this. His eyes were already closed. Someone started begging Keith to stay with them, and he tried to, he really did. However, in the end, exhaustion won out. Keith faded into unconsciousness.

****  
  


In Keith’s dreams, he was back in Cuba. He was ten years old again, walking through the grounds of his group home with Lance. As the boys walked, the world around them burst to life. Strange creatures buzzed in the trees. A warm wind whipped the palm trees into a frenzy. White gingers speckled the grass like stars in a strange, green sky. Young Lance grabbed Keith’s hand and Keith let him.

“You listened to me the other day.” Lance said. “Actually,” Lance laughed “-you’ve been listening to me since we met.” He pulled Keith to a stop and looked at him seriously.

“I want you to know that I could do the same for you, if you wanted. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge.” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“Fine!” Lance relented. “I won’t judge _that much_.” He beamed at Keith.

“If you need to tell me something important, just say so, and I will keep the teasing to a minimum, I promise.” 

Suddenly, even though they hadn’t moved, the two boys were seated beneath a palm tree. Keith looked down at the flower in his hands ( _When did that get there?_ ) then looked back at Lance. He did this a couple times. Flower. Lance. Flower. Lance. It was like a rhythm. Or a song. A song that Keith wanted to dance to for the rest of his life. Before he knew it, he _was_ dancing.

Keith’s right hand was on Lance’s lower back, while the other held the cuban boy’s own dainty hand. Together, the two kids glided across the grass. They waltzed, and spun, and laughed like there was no tomorrow. With no one there to interrupt them, Keith finally let himself speak. “Lance, I do have something important to tell you.” Keith confessed, continuing to dance. Lance gazed at him curiously.

“What is-” he started.

“No.” said Keith. “Please don’t say anything. I have to get this off my chest and if you say something now I might change my mind.”

“Okay.” Lance said softly. Keith looked at him pointedly. Lance laughed.

“Right, no talking. Sorry. I’ll be quiet starting….now!”

Keith took a steadying breath. He slowed their dance down until they were simply swaying in place. The gentle rocking soothed Keith’s nerves. He gathered his courage.

“I have a mark on my chest too,” He confessed suddenly. Lance gazed at him with wide eyes, but, as promised, said nothing. Encouraged by this, Keith continued. 

“I’ve had it since I was born, just like you, Lance. And this flower that you gave me? The white ginger?” He gestured to the fragrant, white flowers at their feet.

“I never knew what it was called before today, but….that’s my mark. A white ginger.” Keith gazed at Lance.

“Two weeks ago, I met the only other person in the world with a mark like mine, and today they show me my flower in real life? That can’t be a coincidence.” he said shakily.

“Us meeting wasn’t a coincidence. There’s something more here.” Keith waited for Lance to say something. He watched Lance’s wide eyes hopefully. Moments passed. Eventually, Keith realized that Lance wasn’t going to speak.

“Right, I never got the chance to tell you.” Keith said. 

“No, you didn’t.” Lance replied.

“That’s alright.” Keith soothed. “You don’t have to say anything. Just promise me you won’t go.”

“But I have to.” Lance told him honestly.

“Then take me with you.” Keith pleaded. And Lance did. When he started waltzing again, he whirled Keith along with him. He dipped and spun Keith just as Keith had done to Lance earlier. Soon, the boys were both red in the face from laughter. The insects continued buzzing. The wind still whistled in the trees. And the white flowers at the boys feet? They became stars. Together, with laughter leaking the air from their lungs, Keith and Lance danced across the galaxy.

***

When Keith awoke, the joy of the dream still buzzed in his veins. He felt peaceful and safe. For a moment, Keith kept his eyes shut and let himself simply enjoy the sensation.

“I think I saw him move!” someone exclaimed. 

The moment passed. With great reluctance, Kieth opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was lying in a bed covered in white sheets. Dozens of other cots lined the walls, each one with its own set of curtains you could draw together for privacy. In the front corner of the room, a small square with large windows revealed a woman sitting at a desk.

 _The medbay._ Keith’s brain supplied. _Oh, right. The choking incident._

“You’re awake!” a voice cried. Something large and warm launched itself at Keith. 

“Lance! Get off of him!” another voice exclaimed. 

“No.” Lance said petulantly. Keith sighed around a mouthful of Lance’s hair. He didn’t have the energy to be angry.

“Lance,” he said weakly. “Please get off me.”

He must have sounded exceptionally pitiful, because for once, Lance listened to him. The lanky teen quickly let go of Keith and stood back up. He actually looked remorseful. Now, _that_ was new. Lance McClain realizing he’d gone too far? Unheard of. Maybe Keith was still dreaming. However, before Keith could think about that too hard, a new face popped into his field of vision.

“Sorry about him, Mr.Keith.” a large, dark skinned boy said. The kid was wearing an orange bandana around his forehead and standing off to Lance’s right. Keith recognized him. He was also one of the first year cadets. 

“You’re Hunk, right?” Keith asked, sitting up. Hunk beamed.

“Yep, that’s me. I’m the guy who tries to stop _this_ guy when he shoots spitballs at you in class.” Hunk gestured towards Lance. Lance laughed.

“He does do that,” the spitball fiend agreed.

Despite himself, Keith smiled. He knew he was supposed to find Lance irritating, but the dream had reminded Keith that they were friends, once. Maybe they could be friends again.

“Hey, Hunk.” Keith said casually. “Would you mind leaving Lance and I alone for a bit?”

Both Lance and Hunk looked shocked. The two boys locked eyes for several seconds. It was as if they were having a silent conversation. Judging by the pained expression on Lance’s face, Keith imagined it went something like this:

**Lance: Oh my god, please don’t leave me alone with this guy. He’s gonna kill me!**

**Hunk: Yeah, he probably will. And you probably deserve it.**

**Lance (in a whiny voice): Huuuuunk.**

**Hunk: You made this mess, you pick it up.**

When the silent conversation was over, Hunk looked at Keith.

“Sure,” he said nonchalantly. “I have to get to the simulation bay anyways.” Keith smiled.

“Thanks, Hunk.” Hunk grinned at him in return.

“No problem. Just, uh… Do me a favor and don’t kill Lance _completely_ dead. He owes me five dollars.” 

“HUUUUNK!”

Hunk laughed heartily and made a swift exit from the room. Lance sighed and shook his head.

“I tell you Keith, it’s hard to find good friends these days.”

“Speaking of friends-” Keith tried, but Lance didn’t hear him.

“I mean, Hunk’s the only _real_ friend I’ve ever had outside of my family and the only reason he won’t completely sell me out is so he can get a measly five bucks!” Lance ranted. He continued to rave about Hunk good naturedly, but Keith wasn’t listening. 

_“The only real friend I’ve ever had.”_ Lance had said. That was what Hunk was to Lance. And Keith? Keith wasn’t anything. The hopeful feeling left over from Keith’s dream fizzled out. All he felt was empty.

“Lance.” He said suddenly. “I need you to leave.” Lance stopped talking.

“What did you say, Keith?” He asked with a smile.

“I need you to _leave._ ” Lance’s smile fell.

“But you told Hunk that you wanted to talk to me.” he argued. 

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. “And now I don’t.”

Lance looked utterly crestfallen. The cuban boy sat down gently in the chair beside Keith’s cot.

“Was it something I said?” he asked forlornly.

“No,” Keith lied.

“Well, was it something I did?”

“No,” Keith lied again.

“If this is about me not noticing you choking, I really am sorry.” Lance said remorsefully. “Or if it’s about the first day we met, or about any of the times I’ve shot spitballs at you, or… yeah.

“Lance-”

“I just want to know what I did to make you hate me!” Lance and Keith gazed at each other in silence, Lance’s face open and vulnerable.

“I don’t hate you.” Keith told him. _Wow, serious deja vu._

“Yeah, right.” 

“Really, I don’t.” Lance scoffed disbelievingly. 

“Then why aren’t we friends already?” The question completely shocked Keith.

“You...want to be friends with me.” he said slowly. 

“I know, I was surprised too.” Lance joked. 

“But you make fun of me,” Keith reminded him. “And you poke me, and make ridiculous faces at me. You’re constantly trying to get on my nerves.” 

“I do that to all of my friends.” He argued. Keith snorted.

“I’ve never seen you shoot spitballs at the back of _Hunk’s_ head.”

“That’s because Hunk’s head doesn’t have a horrific mullet on top of it.” Lance snarked. He grinned at Keith devilishly.

“Also, I just find annoying you waaaaay too much fun. No one can turn red like you, Keith Kogane.” Keith frowned.

“But why me?” he asked. “Why do you want to be friends with _me_?” Lance seemed to consider that. Keith really wished Lance would say, “Because we became friends when we were ten! Surprise! I’ve known all along.”, but that wasn’t what happened.

“You know, I’m not really sure.” Lance told him honestly. “I just have a good feeling about you.” Keith’s heart fell. 

“I’m kind of good at that, you know, picking up on other people’s vibes.” Lance added. Keith seriously doubted that was true.

“I’m the vibe _master._ Master of the vibes.” The cuban boy wiggled his fingers in a childish manner for emphasis. _Was that supposed to represent a vibe?_ Keith wondered. _What does a vibe even look like?_

“Also,” Lance continued. “You’re honest. I like that about you. You make great snarky comments.”

“I _honestly_ want you to go away.” Keith snapped. Lance smiled brightly, reclining in his chair.

“See? There you go again!” Keith groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Lance laughed good naturedly.

“Oh yeah, we’d make great friends.” He decided happily.

Keith scowled. He just wanted Lance to _leave_. He was tired, and in pain, and completely over the emotional rollercoaster that Lance McClain seemed to cause him on a daily basis. Keith recalled the warm, hopeful feeling of his dream. He thought about his father talking about “fellow aliens” that you could share your life with. He wanted that. He wanted Lance as a friend. Keith made a decision.

“Do you recognize me?” he asked suddenly. Lance gaped at him.

“Um, what?”

“Do. You. Recognize me.” Keith said slowly. Lance’s smile came back full force.

“Of course I do!” he cheered. “You’re Keith Kogane. Epic loner and notorious edge-lord.” 

“Look harder.” Keith prompted. Lance’s smile twisted into a look of confusion.

“Keith,” he said gently. “-what is this about?” Lance’s eyes were impossibly kind. Keith swallowed the lump in his throat and persevered. 

“Just answer the question.” he said throatily. “Please.”

Lance seemed to hesitate. It was obvious that he really wanted to argue, but to his credit, he simply sighed and regarded Keith thoughtfully. 

“‘Do I recognize you?’ That’s what you want me to think about?” he asked cautiously. Keith nodded. 

“Just, what do you remember about me?” Keith prompted. _Come on, Lance. Think!_ Lance continued to stare at him. Keith’s emotions were running rampant now. Hope lifted his heart. Fear pressed on his windpipe. Doubt sat heavily on his shoulders. Keith gripped his scratchy, white blanket with desperate fingers and waited. After a couple minutes, Lance spoke.

“I recognize you as Keith Kogane.” he said firmly. “I recognize you as the intelligent, serious, funny person that I’d like to get to know better.” Here, Lance paused and hesitated. 

“And I hope that person wants to get to know me too.” Lance finished. 

Despair hit Keith like a ton of bricks. _He really doesn’t remember me._ Kieth realized. He willed himself not to cry. He would _not_ let Lance see him cry. Keith had to get Lance to leave before he broke down. But how? The guy was determined to be his friend. Lance would never leave. Or, would he? Keith summoned every nasty feeling he’d ever had to the surface. He thought about how his father had left him. He thought about the bullies at every new group home. He thought about the friends he’d never made. Keith looked into Lance’s kind, open, vulnerable expression with a soul on fire.

“Well, I don’t.” He said icily. “I’m glad you see something in me, cause all I see in you is another wanna be fighter pilot, desperate for attention.” Lance balked.

“What? No, that can’t be-”

“Don’t you get it Lance?” Keith laughed darkly. A voice inside him begged him to stop, a voice that sounded a lot like his ten year old self. Keith ignored it. 

“We’ll never be friends.”

Lance behaved as though Keith had physically struck him. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and he pressed a hand to his heart. _Good_ . Keith thought relievedly. _Now maybe he’ll leave._ Unfortunately, Keith had forgotten how argumentative Lance was.

“Excuse me?!” Lance hissed, once he had recovered. “Who the hell do you think you are Kogane?!” Lance leapt to his feet, advancing on Keith.

“I think that I’m a guy who’d like to get a neural exam and get out of here.” Keith said stiffly. “So if you would kindly leave-”

“Leave?!” Lance squawked. “LEAVE?! I’m not leaving after you just said some, frankly, very hurtful things!” Keith couldn’t believe it. All he wanted, after Lance had actually _forgotten about him_ , was some space to cry. And Lance-motherfucking-McClain couldn’t even give him _that._

“Ugh!!! What the hell is it gonna take with you McClain?!” He roared.

“What the fuck is your problem, Kogane?!” 

“Language!” cried the voice of the nurse across the room. Both boys glared silently at each other. They were nearly nose to nose, Keith still sitting in his bed, Lance leering down at him. Keith could feel Lance’s breath, hot and ragged on his face. 

“Do I need to come over there?” The nurse called threateningly. Both boys looked up at her.

“No.” they said in unison. She rolled her eyes and went back to shuffling papers on her desk. Lance and Keith went back to glaring at each other.

“Remember how I said that I don’t hate you?!” Keith hissed. “Well, I lied.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well the feeling’s mutual.” Lance growled. _Wow, SERIOUS deja vu. Are things between us just destined to be this way?_ Keith wondered. The thought started to make him sad again, so he focused back in on his anger. Lance was only too happy to help out with that.

“I hate your stupid jokes!” Keith fumed.

“I hate your stupid mullet!” Lance replied.

“I hate your stupid face!”

“I hate your stupid…..stupidness!” Keith laughed loudly.

“Wow Lance, that’s the best you can do? 

“Shut up!” Lance cried.

“BOYS!” the nurse shouted. Lance immediately backed away from Keith. The nurse had actually come out of her office this time. She was standing there in the doorway, glaring at Keith and Lance like they were the root of all evil.

“I’m sorry Ma’am.” Lance said innocently. “I’ll be quiet, I promise. Give me one more chance?” He batted his, admittedly, luxurious eyelashes at the nurse. The nurse sighed and looked at the ceiling like, ‘Lord, give me strength’.

“Fine, you get one more chance.” she relented, turning to go back into her office. She paused and looked back at them. 

“But I’m serious! One chance only! And then _you-”_ She pointed at Lance. “-are out of here!” Lance scoffed indignantly.

“But what about him!” he complained, gesturing at Keith. Keith was feeling better by the second. Watching Lance pout was oddly healing. 

“Why don’t you kick _him_ out?” Lance continued. The nurse rolled her eyes once more. Keith wondered, if Lance was in the med-bay long enough, would those eyes get stuck looking upwards?

“Because he is a patient.” The nurse reasoned. “And you’re not!” And with that, she returned to her office, slamming the door behind her. The woman sat down at her desk and continued to glare at Lance and Keith. Keith really wished that window wasn’t there. Lance seemed to be thinking along similar lines.

“I sooooo wish I could punch you right now.” Lance grumbled. Keith laughed.

“With those dainty hands? I’d like to see you try.” Lance gasped dramatically. 

“I’ll have you know that these are the hands of a farmer! Or a warrior!” he said passionately. “These are working boy hands!” Keith snorted.

“Some warrior you are. I’ve seen you in the simulations. You can’t even fly straight.” Lance looked almost as hurt as when Keith had said they’d never be friends.

“You take that back.” He warned angrily. Keith grinned. _Wow, this is fun_ . _I see why Lance likes annoying me so much._

“Make me.” Keith challenged. Lance glared darkly. He looked over his shoulder at the nurse. Still tucked away inside of her office, she seemed to have forgotten the boys for the time being. However, that could easily change.

“Any time, any place.” Lance sneered. He hesitated. “Except, right now. Cause if I’m being honest, she is scary.” Keith couldn’t help it, he laughed. He was genuinely enjoying himself now. Arguing with Lance was blissfully uncomplicated. When Lance wasn’t gazing at Keith with soft eyes, or asking Keith to be his friend, Keith could forget that Lance had unwittingly hurt him. He could forget everything else in his life besides the current moment. It was _glorious._

“Oh, scared are we McClain?” Keith teased. Lance immediately turned to glower at him.

“Not of you!” he said defensively, fists clenched at his side. 

“Sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not!”

The boys fell into charged silence. Lance was fuming. Keith was smiling ear to ear. Life was good. Keith tried to think of something to say to keep the banter going, but Lance beat him to it.

“The only thing about you that scares me is your repulsive mullet!” Lance seethed. Keith grinned. _Gotcha._

“It’s no more repulsive than your greasy skin!” Keith snapped back at him. Lance froze. When he spoke again, his voice was low and dangerous.

“You can insult my personality. You can insult my face. You can even insult my flying skills.” Lance said. “But when you insult my skin, you have gone TOO FAR!” The last part of this declaration was so loud that it brought the nurse back out of her office. 

“THAT’S IT!” she cried. “You’re out of here, Cadet!” As she ushered Lance away, the cuban boy shouted at Keith over his shoulder.

“Everything I said about you earlier Keith, all of that nice crap? You can forget it! We’re rivals now! This isn’t over!” Lance raged. Keith just laughed. He decided then and there that the only thing he would ever like about Lance McClain was arguing with him. 

_Oh how wrong he was._

****

As it turns out, the way that Lance McClain treated his enemies wasn’t all that different from how he treated his friends. Even after declaring them “rivals”, Lance still shot spitballs at Keith in class. Lance also still harassed Keith in the corridors with horrible jokes. The only difference was that now Lance meant these things maliciously. And, Keith noted reluctantly, it did feel like things between them had strained a bit. The spitballs that hit Keith during class hit a bit harder and were more numerous. The jokes Lance told became less about Keith’s mullet and more about Keith’s general person. Keith would never admit it, but the change in Lance’s demeanor affected him. He missed Lance’s easy smile. He wondered if he’d ever see it directed at himself again.

In the several weeks following the choking incident, when Keith wasn’t thinking about his new dynamic with Lance, he was thinking about his odd dream. The warped memory had brought Keith’s and Lance’s shared connection back into focus. Unlike during his first month at the Garrison, Keith could no longer ignore the truth of their marks. The words he himself had spoken in the dream followed him wherever he went.

_“I have a mark on my chest too. I’ve had it since I was born, just like you, Lance. And this flower that you gave me? The white ginger? I never knew what it was called before today, but….that’s my mark. A white ginger. Two weeks ago, I met the only other person in the world with a mark like mine, and today they show me my flower in real life? That can’t be a coincidence. Us meeting wasn’t a coincidence. There’s something more here.”_

The dream had brought about a realization that Keith had been trying to push aside for years. He and Lance were somehow, inexplicably, connected. They had not met by chance. Keith’s mark was almost undeniable proof of that. At night, in the confines of his dorm room, Keith would remove his shirt and gaze unashamedly at his white ginger in the mirror, wondering what it meant. 

Keith had never given the flower’s actual appearance much thought before. He was always preoccupied with resenting its unwelcome presence on his body. Now however, the young Cadet allowed himself to observe the image unbiasedly. The white ginger really was beautiful. It’s stalk grew up from Keith’s sternum in a flourish of green. The stem branched off into several long leaves that twirled gracefully across his pectoral muscles. White petals burst from the top of the stem, forming a surprisingly elegant picture. The flower’s center was tinged with yellow and marked by a long stigma and an Anther at the tip. _Huh,_ Keith thought absently. _The flower has male sex organs._ _Wonder if that’s important._ Of course, it could also have female components, but Keith couldn’t remember what those were supposed to look like. _Lance would probably know. He once told me that his family’s farm has a huge garden._ Keith recalled. He ignored the twinge in his heart and stubbornly turned away from the mirror.

While Keith’s mind was occupied by Lance, daggers, and flowers, his work at the Garrison suffered. The carefully constructed mask of discipline Keith had been cultivating began to falter. He stopped trying to brush his hair as much. He snapped at instructors when they gave him suggestions. Keith’s snarky comments returned in full force. Eventually, the Cadet’s behavior digressed enough that Shiro found out about it. 

“Keith,” Shiro said to him one day. “What is going on with you?” 

Shiro had ambushed Keith while he was reading a book in the common room. It was the first time the Cadets had been allowed outside for a whole week, so everyone else was in the yard playing soccer or making general buffoons of themselves. Keith, however, simply didn’t want to see Lance.

“Nothing.” Keith said off handedly, turning a page. “I’m reading.”

“Yeah, but _inside_.” Shiro stressed.

“So?”

“So, I thought you’d take a book _outside_ today. You hate being cooped up.”

This was true, Keith loved the sun and the personal space that being outside provided him. Unfortunately, the current bane of his existence was out there. Keith fought down a sigh.

“I just didn’t feel like getting up.” He said casually. Shiro sat down beside him on the couch.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Well, it’s true.”

Keith tried his best to ignore Shiro and return to reading.

“Keith.” Shiro said. 

Keith stared harder at the words in front of him.

“ _Keith._ ” 

He read the same sentence twice and still had no idea what it meant.

“KEITH.” 

Keith finally gave up and snapped his book shut.

“What?!” He demanded, glaring fiercely at Shiro. The older guy was unfazed. 

“Keith,” he said again, but gently. “Please tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”

Keith laughed darkly. He clutched his book to his chest, as if the inked words could shield him from his own chaotic emotions.

“You can’t help me Shiro, not this time.” _Not unless you can turn back time and make Lance know who I am._

“How can you be sure if you don’t-”

“I’m sure.” Keith said firmly. “Please, just…. Leave me alone.” He looked at Shiro pleadingly. “I want to be alone.”

After a moment of hesitation, Shiro gave in. 

“Alright.” he said placatingly, getting to his feet. “I’ll leave you alone, for now. We’ll talk about it later.”

Keith opened his mouth to argue, but Shiro held up his hand.

“No, Keith. We _will_ talk about this. Don’t think that I haven’t noticed your grades slipping, or the return of your old ‘stick it to the man’ attitude.” His expression softened. He raked a hand through his hair tiredly.

“I’m just worried about you.” Shiro confessed. He gave Keith a gentle smile. “Take some time for yourself today. Tomorrow, we’ll talk.” The young pilot exited the room.

“I’m worried about myself too, Shiro.” Keith whispered softly, but no one was there to hear him. 

****

The only upside of Keith’s new day-to-day life were the arguments he now had with Lance. Arguing with Lance made Keith forget how much he was hurting, or how confused he was by his mark. Gone were the days when Keith had tried to brush Lance aside, or walk out of the room. Now, when Lance approached Keith with a teasing smile on his lips and an insult at the ready, Keith returned his malice in kind. Sure, it pained Keith to see the anger in Lance’s eyes. And yes, maybe he did miss the cuban boy’s laughter. But getting to take it all out on Lance? Now that was pure bliss. 

Keith began to wonder if he was not, in fact, a sadist. At the very least, he was immensely fond of self sabotage. It was like Keith had never left the group home. One snide comment from Lance and Keith was a man on fire, burning with unbridled aggression. The only way to avoid a confrontation was to make sure that he and Lance never saw each other. (Hence, the day Keith had skipped going outside) 

Some days however, when Keith was feeling particularly sad or lonely, he found himself seeking Lance out. He’d walk into the room, pretending he was just passing through, and let Lance come to him. It became a game he played with himself. _How many seconds will it take Lance to notice me this time? Will Lance insult my mullet first, or my emo-ness?_ Of course, sometimes Lance would actually say something that hurt Keith’s feelings, and that stung, but Keith always bounced back quickly.

“Oh, I’ve got no _friends_?” Keith would say. “Well it’s not as bad as having no _talent_.”

“I’m great at a lot of things!” Lance would cry.

“Oh yeah? Name one.” Keith challenged.

And just like that, the argument would circle back to Lance being on the defensive, just like Keith liked it. The whole rivalry business was great. It allowed Keith to have some fun “social” time with Lance, while keeping the other boy at arms length. 

Soon, other cadets began to notice the ongoing feud between the weird orphan kid and the blue-eyed, wannabe lady’s man. People stopped Keith in the hallway to ask him about it. Professors watched the boys glare at each other in class with interest. Shiro offhandedly mentioned Lance to Keith so many times that Keith began to expect it. All the while, Keith was still struggling with discipline in class. Eventually, Shiro asked Keith if his rivalry with Lance was the thing affecting his behavior. Keith stubbornly insisted that it wasn’t.

“I just keep thinking about how my old house is a mile away and I can’t visit it.” Kieth would claim, which was somewhat true.

Or, when that didn’t work, “I kind of miss my group home.” Which was entirely false.

Keith came up with excuse after excuse to explain away his behavior, but not to justify it. He knew the way he was acting wasn’t rational. Shiro’s endorsement had gotten Keith a chance to become a pilot, and Keith was spitting all over that gift. However, he couldn’t stop. The orphan was so angry, and sad, and repressed. It kept coming out in the most unfortunate of ways. Keith’s already short fuse only got shorter. If Keith didn’t have Lance to fight with, he might have completely lost it on someone. Thus, Lance was both Keith’s bane and his savior.

By mid-October, Keith stopped caring about the rules at all. He cared only about learning and getting into the occasional squabble with Lance. Keith still wanted to be a pilot, _of course_ he did. However, Keith’s frustration with Lance and his mark manifested into renewed frustration with the Garrison’s rules and how limiting they were. Keith figured, why hold himself back? He wasn’t going to learn anything that way. He certainly wouldn’t become a pilot any faster. Enough with limiting himself. Keith was _ready._

One afternoon, Keith’s renewed ‘take no prisoners’ attitude mixed dangerously with his steadily shortening fuse. And, for the first time since arriving at the Galaxy Garrison, Keith Kogane got into a physical fight.

***

The incident in question happened during Iverson’s tuesday afternoon class.

“Bank right and maintain heading at 0.27 degrees.” called Shiro’s voice through the speakers. Keith and seven other first year Cadets were experiencing training as a squad in the simulation bay. Each of the Cadets had their own, small pod on the large, circular floor. Within each pod was a captain’s chair, a large screen, and a set of controls including a stick shift and a lever. The stick was intended for steering the “ship”, and the lever was meant to activate thrusters. Both, Keith noted, needed repairs. 

The dark haired teen was currently in a simulation where he was supposed to be flying in formation with his fellow pilots. It was meant to be the first of a series of tests to determine what educational track they would be put into for the next five years at the Garrison. Unfortunately, this test involved flying slowly, carefully, and with the group. The whole thing was incredibly dull and above Keith’s metaphorical pay grade. It was just _way_ too easy.

“Increase throttle by 35 percent and bank left,” Came the next set of instructions. Keith adjusted his craft accordingly and yawned. _So easy._ Keith’s fellow Cadets, whose faces were displayed along the edges of his screen, showed varying levels of concentration. Lance, predictably, was smiling in a self-satisfied manner. Jake Griffin, a boy from Keith’s old school, appeared to be at ease. Hunk, on the other hand, looked like he was about to throw up. Clearly, he was not impressed by his pod’s ability to mimic the sensation of flight.

“Increase elevation, 15 degrees.” Shiro prompted.

“Oh, I’m getting dizzy.” Hunk moaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten so much.” He doubled over and clasped his hands over his mouth. Unfortunately, this caused Hunk’s holographic jet to list to one side, breaking the Cadets’ perfect v-shaped formation.

“Oh, make it stop.” The burly teen complained.

With the formation already broken, Keith saw no reason that he shouldn’t test out his controls a little, and his flight capabilities. While everyone was distracted by Hunk, Keith pushed down hard on his throttle, shooting away from the group.The sudden movement jostled Lance, who was in the craft just ahead of Keith. Lance’s pod shook him to simulate the scenario.

“Ah!” Lance yelped. He growled at Keith in annoyance.

“Fall in line, cadet.” Iverson ordered. 

“Sorry, just testing my controls.” Keith said blandly. “Stick’s loose.” He brought his craft back into the position just behind Lance.

“Keep this up, and you’ll be stuck as a cargo pilot.” The Cuban boy threatened.

“Yeah, Keith,” Jake whined. “You’re gonna get us in trouble.” Keith’s classmates, with the exception of Hunk, all glared at him judgmentally. Keith’s bored demeanor fell away. He glared right back at them.

“Decrease elevation by 22 degrees.” Shiro said quickly. He sounded concerned. Keith’s anger only rose. _They all think they’re so much better than me._ He raged silently. _Even Shiro._ _I’ll show them._

Keith pushed down on the throttle with everything he had and raced away from the group.

“Keith!” His fellow cadets yelled.

Keith ignored their warnings, continuing to spin and dive above the formation. _Watch this Iverson!_ Keith thought nastily. And, _Who’s the cargo pilot now, Lance!_

“Looks like we’ve got a show-off.” Iverson said darkly through the speakers. Keith thought he heard Shiro suck in a breath.

And just like that, the test was over. One of the other officers in the control room, a woman, told the cadets to exit their pods and line up for further instructions. The tension in the room was palpable. Keith could feel the resentment of his classmates itching at his skin, but he didn’t care. The feeling of flying, freely and with all of Keith’s skill, had been _joyous._ What a rush! He wasn’t ready for the rush to be over. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice. Within minutes, Iverson walked out onto the floor and began parading up and down the row of students.

“Hope you all like it in the simulator!” He announced joylessly. “You can thank Pilot Fancypants over there for the privilege of spending the next three weekends in here running _drills!”_

Iverson yelled the word “drills” directly into Keith’s face. When Keith didn’t so much as blink, Iverson narrowed his eyes shrewdly and turned away. He strode purposely over to the other officers, who were arriving onto the scene. They began a whispered conversation that was almost definitely about Keith. None of the cadets dared move. However, after a moment, one of them spoke.

“Thanks a lot.” Jake said to Keith sarcastically. He was standing on Keith’s right.

“My pleasure.” Keith responded sincerely. Because it _was_. The whole flight had been highly pleasurable. Jake raised an eyebrow. On Jake’s other side, Hunk was watching the boys talk with interest. 

“We all know the only reason you’re here is because of Shiro.” Jake continued. That got to Keith. He twisted to look at Jake.

“I can outfly anyone in this building.” He proclaimed, his voice low. Adrenaline from the flight still thrummed through his veins. _Don’t mess with me right now, Jake._ Keith thought. _I have no idea what I’ll do._ Unfortunately, Jake didn’t seem to get the message. He looked straight at Keith, a boy alive with adrenaline and on an incredibly short fuse, and said the cruelest thing that he possibly could. 

“Oh yeah?” Jake asked teasingly. “Is that what Mommy and Daddy told you before they-” 

Before Jake could even finish the question, Keith’s fist collided with his face. Jake went down hard, hitting the metal floor with an ‘umph!’. In an instant, Keith was on him. 

“Hey!” a voice shouted.

Keith grabbed Jake by the collar and raised his fist for another strike. 

“Hey, break it up!” The voice cried again. A large body seized Keith and lifted him off of Jake. It was Commander Iverson, and he was not happy with Keith. The Commander quickly began hauling Keith away while the dark haired teen fought him. Keith wanted to get back to Jake. He _needed_ to get back to Jake. 

“Let me go!” he cried savagely. 

“Calm down, cadet!” Iverson told him. 

Keith didn’t listen. 

He tried everything he could think of to get Iverson to let go, short of biting the man. Keith clawed, yelled, hit, and kicked his superior. He was overcome with rage. Distantly, Keith registered Iverson ordering someone to get a sedative. He heard Shiro begging him to hold still. Keith ignored it all. Keith’s many years of fighting instincts eventually kicked in and he became lucid long enough to step hard on Iverson’s foot. With an undignified yelp, Iverson released him. Before anyone could intervene, Keith raced back across the room to Jake, who was being helped to his feet by Hunk. Seeing him coming, Jake’s face became paralyzed with fear. He took off.

For several minutes, Keith chased Jake around the pods while several exasperated instructors chased Keith. Jake bobbed and weaved across the simulation bay, Keith matching him step for step. Eventually, Jake seemed to realize that Keith was going to catch him. He stopped suddenly and turned around, fists raised in a defensive position. _Finally!_ Keith thought relivedly. Keith had almost reached Jake when, suddenly, someone else was there. Lance McClain stood in front of Jake in a casual manner that suggested he’d always been there. He was even _smiling._ The sight was so bizarre that it brought Keith to a halt. He managed to stop just before bowling Lance over.

“Get out of my way, Lance!” The angry teen growled. 

“No.” Lance said simply. His eyes were impossibly blue and contained some unnamed, soft emotion. “No, Keith I won’t.”

Keith moved to go around Lance, but Lance side stepped to stand in front of him again. 

“Lance, move!!!” Keith screamed violently. Lance wasn’t smiling anymore, but he didn’t look afraid either. 

“No.” He said again. 

“Move or I’ll make you move!” Keith threatened.

“I don’t think so.” 

Keith was just reaching to shove Lance out of his way, when a hand gripped his shoulder roughly. It was the instructors! Lance’s stalling had allowed them enough time to catch up to Keith. He’d been tricked and he was _furious_ . As the military personnel led Keith away, the angry teen turned back to glare at Lance scathingly. Keith expected Lance to look triumphant. He expected Lance to look smug. Keith expected anything besides what he saw which was _sorrow._ Lance felt _sorry_ for him. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away. Keith let himself be taken from the room.

***

An hour later, Keith was sitting on a chair outside of Commander Iverson’s office, awaiting his punishment. Jake, glaring daggers at the side of Keith’s head, sat next to him.

“I’ll handle it.” Keith heard Shiro tell the Commander. Then, the sound of an automatic door hissing open and closed. Distantly, Keith registered that Jake had gone inside.

“Hey.” Shiro said gently. Keith couldn’t look at him.

“Look, I know I messed up.” The cadet stated numbly. “You should just send me back to the home already. This place isn’t for me.” 

Keith felt utterly defeated and oddly relieved. He was ready to call it quits. In fact, it would be so much easier to just give up and leave now. Going back to living in a home would suck, yes, but Keith would get over it. He was adaptable. No more having to try and play by someone else’s rules. No more Lance McClain…...No more room to himself…. No more Shiro…… No more flight training. Keith suddenly wanted to stay and keep trying more than anything. As if sensing his change in attitude, Shiro spoke.

“Keith, you can do this.” He said encouragingly. “I will never give up on you. But more importantly, you can’t give up on yourself.” Keith looked up at Shiro disbelievingly.

“You don’t even know me.” He said accusingly.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Shiro relented. “-but sometimes we all need a hand.”

For emphasis, Shiro extended his hand to Keith. With a grim, determined smile, Keith took it, letting Shiro pull him to his feet. So, Keith was really angry? So, he wanted to fight? Fine. Keith would fight _for what he wanted_ instead of fighting other people. Except for maybe Lance. Lance could stick around.

“Hey, Keith.” A voice suddenly said. _Speak of the devil._ Keith and Shiro both turned to look at Lance McClain. The lanky teen was standing awkwardly a few yards away, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“Can we talk for a second?” He asked. Keith regarded his fellow cadet wearily. He had no desire to talk to Lance, and was about to say so, when Shiro spoke.

“Sure you can!” Shiro said brightly. “I’ll just give you two some privacy. See you later, Keith.”

He clapped Keith once on the shoulder warmly before hastily scurrying away. 

“What about my punishment?!” Keith called out desperately. 

“We’ll discuss it later!” Shiro replied. Keith fumed. Some friend Shiro was turning out to be. But he was a friend, Keith decided. The first he’d had in a long time. And so Keith couldn’t really stay mad.

“Alright, Lance.” Keith said with a sigh. “What do you want?” He turned to the taller boy and waited for him to speak. 

Keith had never seen Lance look so….awkward. Lance didn’t _do_ awkward. Flustered, sure. But awkward? No way. The guy seemed to be constantly moving, or speaking. He never looked unsure. _Guess it’s all that false bravado._ Keith mused. _Looks like he’s just as insecure as the rest of us._ The fact that Keith might be the cause of all of this awkwardness confused him. Lance had never once had trouble coming up with something to say, scathing or otherwise, in Keith’s presence. 

“I just wanted to see how you were.” Lance said carefully. Keith raised an eyebrow. 

“You came down here during your free period to see how I’m doing?”

“Yeah,” Lance said affirmingly. “Hunk was worried about you.” Keith crossed his arms and cocked his hip. Lance’s eyes tracked the movement.

“Hunk.” Keith said carefully. Lance swallowed.

“Uh, huh.”

“ _Hunk_ was worried about me.”

“Yep.”

“Hunk the guy that I’ve spoken to, maybe twice.”

“That’s the one!” Keith didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Lance was absolutely ridiculous, and clueless, but he _cared about Keith._

“Want to sit down?” Keith asked gently. Lance shrugged oh-so-casually. 

“Sure.” He said.

The two cadets sat down. Keith, in the chair he’d been in before. Lance, in the chair beside him. The two orange, plastic seats were barely a centimeter apart. Lance’s and Keith’s limbs couldn’t help but touch. Keith wondered distantly why Lance hadn’t sat down in the only other seat available, the seat that Jake had vacated. _That_ chair was a whole chair and a table away from Keith, but no. Lance had chosen to sit _directly next to him._ Keith tried to focus on something else, anything else. 

“Sorry I ruined the test.” Keith said quickly. Lance shrugged.

“It’s alright,” he said good naturedly. “I’ll show you up in the next one.” Keith snorted.

“How are you supposed to show me up if we all have to do the same thing?”

“By doing it better than you!” Lance said haughtily.

“Sure, hotshot. Whatever you say.” Keith teased.

“I do say!” 

The familiar territory of arguing seemed to ease Lance’s strange awkwardness. He reclined back in his chair, leaning his head against Iverson’s office window. Lance started bouncing one of his legs. Keith turned his body a bit sideways, so that they could look at each other. As a result, his knee and Lance’s bumped together softly. He didn’t hate the feeling.

“Whatever,” Lance relented. “This isn’t why I’m here.” He pointed a finger accusingly at Keith’s chest. 

“I’m here to find out how _you_ are doing.” Keith smiled.

“For _Hunk_.” He reiterated.

“Yes, exactly!”

“Alright,” Keith chuckled. “Well you can tell _Hunk_ not to worry. I’m fine.” 

“You didn’t look fine earlier.” Lance said softly. His blue eyes gazed into Keith’s. “Jake seemed to really get to you.” Keith immediately stiffened. _Jake._ Jake had started to say something about Keith’s parents….something that outed Keith as an orphan.

“So you know.” Keith said stiffly. _Fucking great._ Lance was going to have the perfect new ammo for his tirades against Keith. 

“Know what?” Lance asked innocently. Keith just stared at him. Lance sighed.

“Fine, I know.” he admitted. Keith glared angrily down at his shoes.

“Okay then, go ahead.” He grumbled. Lance’s leg stopped bouncing.

“Go ahead and what?” 

“Just….get it off your chest.” said Keith. “Please. If you’re gonna make fun of me, do it now.” Keith closed his eyes and waited. Silence fell. And then….

“Are you _serious_?!” Lance complained. Keith looked up at him. Lance’s face was completely devoid of the mocking Keith expected. Instead, he appeared utterly shocked and offended.

“Do you really think so little of me?” the Cuban boy whispered. Keith didn’t realize his opinion meant anything to Lance.

“No.” Keith said honestly. “I’m just used to people making fun of me for it.” Lance’s eyes widened with horror.

“For what?!” he asked passionately. “For being an orphan?” Keith flinched at the word. “What kind of sick person makes fun of someone for that?!” Lance continued. He and Keith locked eyes.

“Jake Griffin.” they said in unison, then laughed. 

“Wow, that guy’s a jerk.” Lance marveled. “He’s objectively the most condescending person I have ever met.” Keith chuckled.

“Tell me about it.” he agreed. Just then, the door to Iverson’s office hissed open. Jake stepped out. Seeing Keith and Lance sitting there, he tilted his chin up haughtily, flicked his hair out of his face, and stormed away. As soon as he’d rounded the corner and was out of sight, Lance and Keith burst out into uproarious laughter.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna pee!” Lance wheezed.

“Did you see the hair flip?!” Keith exclaimed. 

“Um, _yeah_!” Lance proceeded to mimic said hair flip. This ignited a new round of uncontrollable giggling. Eventually, with a couple false starts and a tremendous amount of effort, the boys began to settle down.

With laughter still lightening the mood, an easy, relaxed smile graced Lance’s features. With a start, Keith realized that his “rival” was….pretty. Keith was a sucker for pretty boys. _Oh no._ Keith thought dumbly. He quickly reminded himself about the marks and about Lance’s unfortunate forgetfulness. _You’re not friends. You don’t like him._ Keith thought frantically. _Cuba, Keith. Remember Cuba._ The memory of his damaged pride sobered Keith up _fast_. Unwittingly, Keith recalled Lance’s pity-filled eyes in the simulation room. His laughing mood vanished almost instantaneously. 

“Look, Lance.” he said gruffly. “Thanks for checking in on me, but I really don’t want or need your pity. You can leave now.” Lance’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Keith sighed internally. _Cuuuuute. Wait, no!_

“What? I don’t pity you.” Lance insisted. Keith huffed.

“Yeah, right.”

“I don’t!”

“Yes,” Keith said firmly. “-you do.” His left knee felt hotter where it touched Lance’s. Keith twiddled his thumbs uncomfortably. 

“I saw the look on your face at the end of the fight.” He said accusingly. “You pity me.” For a moment, Lance looked caught off guard. He flushed and straightened up in his chair.

“You saw that?” 

“Yeah.” Keith admitted, tension locking his joints. Lance grimaced. 

“I’m really sorry I hurt you, but that wasn’t pity.” He told Keith kindly. 

“Then what _was_ it?” 

Lance seemed to hesitate. The cadet’s gorgeous, cerulean eyes darkened. Keith hadn’t seen his fellow cadet act this seriously since their post-choking confrontation _._

 _“I recognize you as the intelligent, serious, funny person that I’d like to get to know better,”_ Lance had said that day. An arguing, defensive, annoying Lance, Keith could handle. But a Lance with kind eyes and a voice dripping with sincerity? _NO._

An instinctive desire to push his “rival” away again surged through Keith. He had to yell at Lance, or run away, before the handsome cadet said something incredibly moving and Keith was _done for._

“I spent some time in a group home once.” Something like _that._

“W-what?” Keith spluttered. It sounded as though he was being choked. Lance slumped forward, sadness tugging at his spine.

“Yeah.” he confessed. “I was only there for a couple weeks, but during that time, I got a taste of what it would be like to not have a family. And, if I’m being honest, I didn’t take it well. I definitely don’t pity you, I just….” 

And suddenly, Keith _understood._

“Hearing about my parents reminded you of that time in your life.” He whispered.

“Exactly.” Lance breathed gratefully. “And I- I wasn’t prepared for how _awful_ that would feel.”

In seconds, everything Keith thought he knew about his relationship with Lance _shifted_ . Keith looked at Lance’s sorrowful blue eyes, so clearly haunted by the past, and finally understood why Lance hadn’t recognized him. In hindsight, it was incredibly obvious. Of course _Lance McClain_ , the boy who grew up surrounded by love, would have been traumatized after spending two weeks thinking he might never see his family again. It made perfect sense! Keith should have _known._ Lance didn’t remember Keith because Lance had tried his hardest to forget _the entire thing_. Keith felt like a complete idiot and a… What had ten-year-old Lance called him? Oh, yeah! A jerk-face. 

“Lance? Thanks for telling me.” Keith said sincerely. Keith hoped Lance could hear the apology in his voice.

“Sure, no problem.” Lance replied. Then, “Hey Keith?”

“Yeah?” 

Lance’s eyes were light blue again, all traces of darkness entirely banished. And when he smiled, Keith forgot about everything else. Just like he always did when they argued.

“I know we hate each other and all,” Lance joked softly. “-but for what it’s worth? You’ll always have me, your favorite rival.” Keith’s reaction, built up from weeks of arguing, was instantaneous.

“We’re not rivals, Lance.” He groaned.

“Oh yes we _are_!” Keith laughed giddily. 

“Lance, you made that up!” Lance began to laugh with him. 

Eventually, they both settled back into a comfortable silence.

“Thanks, Lance.” Keith said seriously. Lance held out his fist to Keith.

“Not friends?” He offered. Keith returned the fist-bump.

“Not friends.” He agreed, but both boys were smiling ear-to-ear. 

If Keith left his fist against Lance’s for a second longer than was strictly necessary, well, that was his business. Lance’s face was just, so _close_ to his own. There was barely a foot between them. Keith felt the weight of their intermingling breaths pulling him in. Their breaths. Lance’s eyes. That _smile._ God, it was like _gravity._ However, before Keith could do anything stupid, Lance was on his feet and backing down the hallway. Keith wondered if the other boy had felt anything at all. 

“Well, I’ll see you later mullet.” Lance called cheerily. “I have a report to bring back to Hunk. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him you’re okay and as gross-looking as ever.” 

“You do that.” Keith said with an eyeroll. “Oh and Lance?”

“Yeah?” Lance paused just before rounding the corner. Keith smirked at him.

“Tell _Hunk_ I said ‘thank you’.” 

Blushing, Keith decided, looking good on Lance McClain.

***

After accepting Shiro’s helping hand, vowing to fight for himself, and reconciling with Lance, Keith’s behavior, and his spirits, improved again. And, this time, they stayed that way. For the next two years at the Galaxy Garrison, Keith finally felt like he had a _home_ . He got used to the numerous rules, eventually starting to even love a few of them. He also started to cherish different parts of the Garrison, like his dorm room and his favorite couch in the North-wing cadet common room. During classes, Keith _excelled,_ outstripping the other Fighter pilots in his year by miles. He’d forced himself to slow down and master the basics first, per Shiro’s suggestion, and it really paid off. Keith was breaking records left and right by his second year at the Garrison. 

Shiro became like an older brother to Keith, encouraging him and teasing him in equal measure. Whenever Keith needed to escape the pressures of life as a cadet, he was always welcome in Shiro and Adam’s standard issue living compartment. Jake Griffin and the other occasional dufus still tempted Keith to throw a punch or two, but he never did. Shiro’s steady presence helped Keith learn to be patient and channel his rage. Although, admittedly, Keith didn’t have a ton of pent up rage anymore. What was left of it had died with his grudge against Lance.

Besides Shiro, Lance became Keith’s closest friend at the Garrison. Keith still didn’t always like him, sometimes he genuinely even hated him, but they were friends all the same. Not that Keith would ever admit that outloud. Following their heart-to-heart outside of Iverson’s office, Keith and Lance’s strained relationship thawed. Lance’s spitball shooting became friendly once again! He started telling more jokes about Keith’s mullet. Also, when the boys fought, they were careful not to say anything too hurtful to each other. However, old habits die hard, and when one of them accidentally said something overly antagonistic during an argument, their good natured squabbling oftentimes evolved into a genuine conflict. The two boys still had extremely dichotomous personalities and a mutual penchant for competition. They couldn't help butting heads.

Over the years, it became increasingly difficult for Keith to pretend not to enjoy Lance’s company. Lance McClain, Keith discovered, was so much more than his cocky, annoying, arrogant, flirtatious appearance. Lance was hilarious, and kind, and adventurous, and friendly, and outgoing, and he wore his heart on his sleeve _all the time_. He was also extremely thoughtful. Lance loved to do nice things for Keith and pretend that it wasn’t him. 

During their second year, Keith and Lance were arguing outside one fall afternoon, this one was getting _really_ heated, when Keith snapped, “I’m almost sixteen! I’m way too fucking old for this bullshit!” Lance laughed at Keith’s distress.

“Keith, you’ve been hanging out with Shiro too much. Sixteen is not old!” He teased.

“It is when I’m arguing with a toddler!” Keith spat.

“So, you’re almost sixteen, huh? When’s the day? I bet I can guess it!”

“NO! It’s October 23rd, okay!” Keith cried, before Lance could annoy him to death.

“Oooh, a Scorpio! You know, I’m a Leo, and Scorpios and Leos are famously good at _mashing it up_.” 

“ _Lance!_ ”

Weeks later, Keith had all but forgotten about the heated exchange. So, on his birthday, when Hunk approached him in the cafeteria with a home-made cupcake, he was taken entirely off guard. The cupcake was beautiful. It was a masterpiece of chocolate icing swirled atop a bite of vanilla cake. Hunk had even included a candle. 

“Happy birthday Keith!” The burly cadet told him cheerily. Keith was touched.

“Did you make this?” He asked Hunk. Hunk beamed proudly.

“Of course! I’d never give a friend store-bought dessert on their birthday.” Keith laughed.

“Well it looks amazing, thank you.” 

“Aw, shucks.” Hunk said with a blush. “It was no problem! But, uh, I can’t take all the credit.” Hunk leaned in to whisper to Keith conspiratorially.

“The whole thing was Lance’s idea.” 

At the time, Keith had been shocked. It was the first time his “rival” had ever given Keith a gift. However, after Lance saw how much Keith liked the cupcake, the phenomenon became much more common. Nearly once a month, the dark haired cadet would walk out his door one morning and trip over a new knick knack. Sometimes they were wrapped. Sometimes they weren’t. They never came with cards. It didn’t matter. Keith knew who they were from.

By the time Keith reached his third year at the Garrison, he had a large variety of trinkets around his dorm room, all from Lance. Keith’s favorite though, was the shriveled white flower he kept trapped between the pages of a journal. After six long years, the white ginger still smelled vaguely sweet.

  
  
  



End file.
